The Whiz Kid
by Diivine
Summary: His designation is X5-205. He’s a bioengineered soldier whose genetic code is worth millions. He was U.S. Government property until he went AWOL in 2009 along with his siblings. This is his life since the escape. By the way, he goes by Zane nowadays.
1. Sack up n’ Blaze

**The Whizz-Kid**

**Author**: Diivine

Disclaimer: Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron, Charles H. Eglee and company. I own nothing but my imagination (and my boyfriend's keyboard).

**Rating**: T for the moment. It _may_ become M for future sexual and drugs references, explicit language, in the upcoming chapters. I'll advise when it will change.

**Summary**: His designation is X5-205. He's a bioengineered military soldier whose genetic code is worth millions. He was U.S. Government property until he went AWOL in 2009 along with his siblings. This is his life since the escape. By the way, he goes by Zane nowadays.

**Feedback**: Yes, _**please**_.

**Author's note:** A big, BIG thank you to LunaSoleil07 and Shywr1ter. You're both wonderful and courageous to deal with my grammar and spelling!

**Prologue****: Sack up n' Blaze**

_(or__, when we went from good to bad lil' soldiers)_

**Gillette, Wyoming, USA**

**22****04 hours, February 13, 2009.**

Three stories. It was a long way to fall for a kid. X5-unit 332680074205 aka Zane hit the snow-covered ground hard but didn't black out; instead, he shoulder-rolled as he'd been taught to cushion the fall. He jumped back to his bare feet. Next to him, Jesse hit the ground the same way. As if on cue, they exchanged quick glances and parted in different directions. 'See you in a few,' Jesse's eyes had said. If everything were to work properly, they would see each other at the meeting point. 'ETA: four minutes', Zane thought.

He started running in zigzags to avoid the wide white beams of the towers' searchlights. Not so far away, he could hear barks and snowmobiles. Some of them were coming his way. Fortunately for him, the choppers were at the other side of the compound. It would be easier to reach his destination.

As he kept running, Zane felt his feet becoming numb from the dry snow but ignored it. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes in concentration; it seemed to give more strength to his footsteps. He ran as if he had the devil himself on his heels. It wasn't so far from the truth.

He hid behind a tree as two dogs and three soldiers ran by him, heading for his fellow X5, Jesse. Zane kept his eyes open, staring at the scene not far away from him. As he watched his brother being cornered by the angry animals, a lone tear rolled over his cheek. He heard Jesse's cries of anguish as strong jaws closed over his leg, but Zane couldn't move an inch. He wanted to go help Jesse. He wanted nothing more than to save his brother, but it would be a tactical error to do so. He didn't stand a chance against two mad dogs and three tazer guns, even with Jesse fighting at his side. He saw them fire at Jesse, and the boy dropped on the white snow, his entire body seizing. They picked up his unconscious brother and left.

Zane released the breath he had been keeping captive in his lungs. Now was not the time to lose control. He forced his pounding heart to calm down and, when he judged that it was relatively safe for him to move, he started running again. He was good at escape and evade. He was one of the best, he had been told. He wouldn't get caught.

He finally spotted the rendezvous point, a clearing surrounded by logs, and saw Tinga and Seth already there. Zane jogged over and couldn't hide a small smile as he knelt down next to them. Seth touched his arm lightly and Tinga squeezed his hand in hers. His lungs released a cloud of fog.

"Jesse's down," he said more calmly than he felt. Tinga's eyes went downward and Seth's upward. Both looked momentarily sad.

They stayed there, waiting and—even if they didn't know the meaning of it at that instant—hoping that more of their brothers and sisters would show up. He sighed with relief as Vada appeared with Syl on her tail. Soon enough, more of them came. There were eleven when Zack finally showed up. Immediately, Zane felt less stressed. After what seemed like an eternity, the youngest of his sisters, Maxie, came into view, followed by Jondy.

Snowmobiles were coming their way. Zane watched Zack jump to his feet and face them. With Eva out of commission, it was up to Zack, her second in command, to take charge. He felt a pang of pain hit him at the thought of her. He shook the feeling away; he needed to focus on Zack and the situation at hand. It was not the time to mourn their lost sister and commanding officer.

Zane watched as Zack made a series of hand signals, telling them to split in groups of two. 'Lay low until I contact you for new orders' he added. He motioned for Tinga to pair with Ben. They agreed, stood up and left. He pointed Seth and Kavi. They departed. He turned toward Zane and teamed him with Brin.

Zane didn't waste any time watching the rest of the pairings. He clamped his hand on Brin's upper arm and pulled her up. Even though he was younger than she was, he was taller and faster. She followed him without reluctance or second thoughts. She must have been as desperate as he was to leave the hellhole that was Manticore. They bolted toward the west wall perimeter.

As the number of footsteps separating them from their freedom decreased, Zane felt his heart beating faster. He was curious and a little anxious about what was behind Manticore's walls, but he mostly felt excited.

In his peripheral vision, he saw dogs coming their way. He was about to urge Brin to run faster, but she beat him to it, and he picked up his pace to match hers. He scoped the perimeter attentively; their salvation was about two hundred meters in front of them. He prayed the Blue Lady would help them make it to the other side.

He quickly looked back over his shoulder. The dogs were gaining ground on them. He blurred, pulling Brin along with him, holding her hand even when she bruised his fingers in a crushing grip. He knew she was afraid. She tripped, yet he did not stop. He kept running, pulling her along until she managed to regain her footing.

When they arrived in front of the fence, they jumped as one, in complete synchronicity, landing hard on the other side. Zane helped Brin stand up and let go of her hand. He was barely panting but his chest felt heavy. Was it fear? Was it anguish? Even he couldn't answer those questions.

He took one last glance behind him. He watched as, centimetres away from them, the dogs hit the metal fence angrily. He stared into the bloodshot eyes of a German Shepherd. The dog barked harder at him.

A slow smile emerged on Zane's lips. It showed off his canines, sharper than those of an ordinary human being. He made a 'tskk' sound at the dogs, the spitting sound that a cat makes when taunting its opponent. The barks increased in volume.

A few heartbeats later, he heard a chopper coming toward them.

"Zane?" he heard Brin's little voice. He looked over at her, streaks of tears covering her face, and he felt terrified for her. He just wanted to hug her, make her warm. Still, it was not the time to do so. He walked to her, took her hand, and gently tugged on it. She smiled weakly at him and motioned in the general direction of the dark forest. They started running again on the white, cold snow, while barking, gun shoots, roaring motors and blinding lights were left behind.

**To be continued...**


	2. Sleepin’ In The Snaggles

**The Whizz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

**A/N:** Thanks to Lili Witchcraft for the comment !

**Chapter 1: Sleepin' In The Snaggles**

_(or, when a lamb faced its very first wolf)_

**Buffalo, Wyoming, USA**

**0346 hours, February 14, 2009.**

Zane estimated that they had run sixty klicks when they made it to a town. Brin decided that the small, dark alley they stumbled into looked safe enough for them to rest a little. It was near dawn and both of them were too exhausted and too afraid to continue running. A metal barrel filled with fire was in the alley; they went near it, wanting the heat it radiated. It was more of a craving than a need; they were used to cold temperatures because of Manticore's training, but they didn't like it. A stranger dressed in rags was sleeping deeply two meters away. Zane studied him warily; deciding the stranger didn't seem to be a threat, he sat down, his back to the wall opposite him.

Brin sat next to him and huddled close to his side. She was shivering, and he feared it was due to the onset of seizures but then he realized that he was shaking too. He put an arm around Brin's smaller shoulders and tried to share what little body heat he had. Soon enough, her shaking subdued and she slipped into much-needed sleep. His own tremors eventually faded with the heat from the burning barrel.

He fixed his gaze on the sleeping man, as if he would wake up and attack them. He was snoring softly, his chest rising and falling in a calm movement. His smell consisted of alcohol and tobacco.

Zane didn't know what to think of the new world they had stumbled into or its inhabitants. He didn't understand why the man was lying there, living among dirty boxes and smelly trashes. Life in the real world wasn't making much sense to him. Everything around them smelled bad and looked broken.

An hour later, tired of gazing at the stranger, he finally diverted his attention to the rising sun in the foggy sky. It wasn't as bright and as blinding as many rising suns he had witnessed over the parade square in Manticore -the ones he was forced to look at while the morning roll call- yet, he decided that it was the best he had ever seen for the fact that it was his first as a free soldier. He memorized every detail about that sunshine; from its hundred colors to the shadows it created around him. He would later think of that day as '_the first day of his life_'.

After a few hours of sleep, Brin took over his watch. He didn't waste any time and immediately fell asleep. When he woke up, he found his sister speaking animatedly with the old man. Fear, fury, and intrigue went through him, and he straightened up. Brin saw that and turned to him.

"Zane," she said. "Murphy told me that we are in Buffalo but not the Buffalo in New York nor Buffalo Bill's Buffalo." Both the old man—Murphy, apparently—and Brin looked at him expectantly, waiting for his reply.

"We have to leave," he answered warily. He stood up and dusted off his wrinkled sleeping gown. He felt Murphy's eyes on him. The old man seemed curious to know what a boy and a girl with shaved heads**,** dressed in gowns, were doing in his alley. Zane really didn't want to answer any of his questions; the faster they left this place, the better. The man was making him uneasy. He urged Brin to follow him.

"Come on," he told Brin, gesturing to the mouth of the alley and taking a great deal of care in not speaking her name. She had already said his out aloud; he would keep at least one of their identities unknown.

"I am coming," she said, turning back as she padded her way up to Murphy. Zane was even more eager to leave as Murphy and Brin hugged and separated. Finally, she waved at Murphy.

How she knew it was a common gesture to wave while saying good-bye, Zane didn't know. It was all instinctive to her, or maybe Murphy had taught it to her. She was about to follow him when the man gestured at them.

"Wait a second," he said, taking off his coat. Zane found himself growing nervous and he closed his fists, ready to pounce. The man took off a wool sweater and a plaid shirt. He put the first over Brin's small form and handed her the latter. "Be careful and take care, Brin," Murphy said, reajusting his coat.

"We will," she said with a smile.

"Now, Brin," Zane said through gritted teeth. He stormed off towards the end of the alley, expecting her to follow him.

He was furious now. She wasn't being cautious at all! They had just escaped Manticore and an entire platoon of soldiers was certainly on their tails by now. And there she went, speaking with strangers and befriending with them. He stopped and turned on his heels when he reached the main street, impatient to get going, but not willing to leave Brin behind.

She smiled one last time at Murphy and headed Zane's way. He waited until she was next to him before continuing walking. She handed him Murphy's shirt and, even though it was dirty and smelly, Zane put it on. If Murphy's dress code was anything like the rest of the city's, it would be a tactical error to walk around the streets in wet gowns.

He waited until they had reached the sidewalk before saying anything. He felt like he was the older between the two of them. At that instant, he wanted to reprimand her for her actions. However, it wasn't his job to do so; it was hers. She was older. She was supposed to be in command. She had to protect them both, not endanger them. So he took a few seconds to cool down before speaking. It wasn't his place to call her off on her behaviour.

"We need to eat," he stated simply. After a few seconds, he looked sideways at a strangely quiet Brin. Normally, he would be happy with the silence, but it was somehow unnerving, since he was usually the silent one. Was she angry with him for his boldness? Had he been too harsh? He spoke, his voice now soft: "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she said simply. He narrowed his eyes. She was acting out of character. He decided to continue the dialogue –well, more of the monologue- to gauge her reactions. He wanted to know what was bottering her; sure he was lower in rank and younger in age, but he was still a caring brother.

"Good, because it may take some time before we find something to eat again after this," he explained.

He observed her from the corner of his vision. She was looking forward, expressionless. After exactly five whole seconds, when he was ready to pin her to the wall and force her to speak, he tried one more time, hoping to get more than a monosyllabic word as an answer. "We will have to stay in the forest for a while. It's not safe to live in a city this near to Manticore."

"I know."

'_Arrrg_!' Zane's mind screamed. Brin sure knew how to aggravate him. He grabbed her arm and made her face him. A woman passing nearby watched them with interest, and Zane narrowed his eyes at her. At Zane's glare, she started walking faster. When she was far enough to be out of hearing range, he focused back on his sister.

"What is it, Brin?"

She seemed reluctant to speak so he reassured her with a squeeze of his hand. She looked at her bare feet and bit her lower lip. Now he was worried. He didn't want her to cry; he didn't like it when girls were in tears. Back in Manticore, Zane had always stayed away from those awkward situations- he felt like he didn't possess enough empathy to deal with crying girls. Tinga, Lilou and Brin herself were better at it, probably because they themselves were girls.

He weighed his options. Leaving her there was out of question, as was engulfing her in his arms like his pack used to do to confort each other. If he hugged her, she would doubtlessly soak his new shirt with tears. It may be smelly and dirty but it offered him camouflage and some kind of protection against cold, so he kind of liked the newfound piece of clothing.

A few heartbeats later, he opted for choice number three: pulling rank on her- well, technically, she had higher rank because of her age, but for the time being, he chose to ignore that fact. It was, he thought, the best way to get her to speak without her emotions getting in the way. "Tell me," he ordered, his voice harsh, direct, and completely unlike the one he'd used minutes ago.

Her chin tilted up, her back went rigid and she met his eyes squarely. Unshed tears shone in them, but she didn't back down. "Do you think they allmake it out?" she demanded.

He moistened his lips before answering. He didn't want to lie but needed to calm his own doubts as well. "I don't know," he whispered finally, truthfully.

They shared a moment of silence, both unsure what to do or say to make things better. After a few seconds, Brin snapped out of her trance and finally took charge. She pointed across the street to where a display rack of fresh vegetables was sitting in front of a grocery. "There," she said. "I want carrots," she added with a grin.

She was acting like his big sister again. He felt better and smiled at her. Until Zack found them, they would be all right, he decided. Brin would be in charge and take care of them, and he would help her in her moments of weakness.

"We will get you some carrots, then," he said, imitating her smile.

Brin looked at both sides of the street before crossing it; it was more of an innate act of self-preservation than an instilled act. She stepped forward and Zane followed her to the other sidewalk.

In front of them, about thirty feet away, stood their objective. Brin turned to him and began outlining her plan in the military hand-talk Manticore had taught them. He stared intently while she gestured fluidly, finally finishing with two fingers to the left, a clenched fist, and a curt nod.

He nodded his acknowledgement of the order and started walking casually by her side. They were seconds away from executing the plan when two strong hands grabbed each soldier by a shoulder.

"What do you kids think you're doing?" a voice exclaimed behind them.

**To be continued...**


	3. Chicago Style

**The Whizz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

A/N: Again, I'd like to thank my wonderful beta readers to put up with me!

**Chapter 2: ****Chicago-Style **

_(__Or, when the straw broke the Camel's back)_

**Buffalo, Wyoming, USA **

**0722 hours, ****February 14, 2009.**

They were seconds away from executing the plan when two strong hands grabbed each soldier by a shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing, kids?" a voice exclaimed behind them.

The soldier in Zane kicked in and he twisted around, ready to fight off the threat. Brin reacted the same way, but also blocked the tight fist he directed at the intruder just in time. For a split second, he wondered why she had stopped him but then he recognized Murphy, the old man who had shared his raggedy clothing with them. He had eyes the size of saucers as Zane's fist came a hair's-breadth away from knocking him out cold. The man let out a shaky breath.

"Well, well. That isn't a way to greet a friend, young man." He grinned a toothless smile at Zane, trying to get a response from him, a friendly gesture Zane chose to ignore. It took several seconds – too much time in Zane's opinion- for the man to finally close his mouth and his attention reverted to Brin.

Zane watched as Brin stepped forward and leaped into Murphy's arms as if they were long lost best friends who had been apart for far too long. They shared a moment of silent happiness before each let go of the other. Zane fought the urge to roll his eyes at the scene, settling for crossing his arms in impatience, a gesture that was becoming too familiar. Zane waited for them to separate. When they did, Murphy had a worried look on his face.

"Brin, my dear, have you see my camels?" the man asked his sister.

Zane glanced sideways at Brin, who looked as if she was seriously thinking about the question. Was the outside world already getting to her brain? He momentarily feared for the others' mental health. Going back to Manticore didn't seem like that bad of an idea, now that he thought of it. Or maybe it was a secret code or something. He was slightly irritated to be left out of the loop. He had been taught to be an expert code-breaker and to recognize ciphers, no matter their guise. Why didn't Brin tell him about those codes when she had had the opportunity?

"I am sorry, Murphy, but I did not see them."

"Well, I'll need to get some more, then." Murphy continued. Then, he rotated again in Zane's direction and put a finger at Zane's chest. "I saw what you were about to do, son. You can't just steal whatever you want."

Zane scowled at him; he couldn't believe his ears. Had the old man just reprimanded him? It was official now; Zane didn't like him. Not only did he have bad breath and a serious deficiency in the hygiene department, but he also seemed to be missing some important brain cells, as well as a sense of self-preservation. Zane wanted to hit him, but again, Brin came to Murphy's rescue.

"Zane, calm down," said Brin to him with a hand on his arm. He was fuming internally and he wanted to strangle her at that instant. Suddenly, Zane wanted to tell Murphy that the whole '_stealing from the vegetables stand_' plan had been Brin's idea to begin with; he was only following her lead. He was about to say just that when he realized what he was thinking. What was he thinking? Brin wasn't the enemy. Murphy was. So, he closed his mouth and shut up.

"Well, kiddos," said the aforementioned opponent, "I'm going to grab a meal and some camels. Feel free to join me."

Murphy started walking slowly away from them. Zane saw that Brin was about to follow him, but he stopped her before she got too far.

"No, Brin. Let him go. He is the enemy and he's insane."

Brin narrowed her eyes at him. "Murphy is my friend, and he seems to know were we can find food. And he is not insane."

"Say that to his camels," Zane stated, unaffected by her speech.

"Camels are cigarettes, duh." She threw him her infamous know-it-all look and left in Murphy's general direction. That was Brin's way of ordering him to follow. Zane sighed and shook his head. He jogged and caught up with her.

"It's not like I was supposed to know which camels he was referring to," Zane said to Brin. "I am sure that you didn't know what Camels were either, before this morning."

"Did know," she said, smiling sideways at him.

No she hadn't, he persisted inwardly. His frown had returned in full force.

"Suck it up, soldier" she said - it sounded like something Eva would have said when one of them was in pain- "and listen to your big sister for once," she added, smiling sideways at him.

His felt the corner of his lips twitch at the comment. He made a great show of setting them in a thin line and deepening his frown. How it was that a single smile, not a sweet smile, and not even a sweet one, more of a mocking smirk no less, could make him forgive her this quickly, he didn't know. Maybe it was their banter that he loved so much that saved her from some serious ass kicking. The easy camaraderie between them had always existed as far as he could remember; that must be why Zack had paired them together. They had complementary spirits and equally smart mouths. However, their interests were polar opposites. Everything seemed to impress Brin. He, for his part, needed something to be gigantic to be even slightly impressed by it.

And Murphy was not impressive from Zane's point of view.

They kept walking several feet behind the crazy man, who was now in a heated argument with himself. 'Not insane?' Zane thought sarcastically.

In about another hundred meters, Murphy introduced them to the fabulous world of the Soup Kitchen. The place looked like Manticore's cafeteria, with nicer decor and employees. In the food line, Zane seized the opportunity to gather some provisions without anyone noticing. He saw that Brin wasn't keeping her hands idle either; her laden pockets were becoming heavier by the second. They advanced toward the dinning room, trays in hand, and sat beside Murphy and an unknown man. "This is Harold, my pal. Harold, this is Brin and Zane, my new friends."

"Hi, Harold," greeted Brin brightly. Harold nodded his head to them. Zane kept quiet as well.

Murphy helped himself on a plastic chair and spoke quietly to the man named Harold. Zane, despite the noise level in the room, caught fragments of their conversation. Murphy was telling his "pal" –whatever that meant- that he had fallen asleep in an alley, drunk as a skunk. The other man's only response was an unhappy nod. Murphy cleared his throat and turned toward Brin and Zane: "Harold can't speak," he added for them. "He was shot in the throat while serving in the Persian Gulf War. Impress the kids and show them your medal, Harold."

The veteran opened his jacket; a medal with black, beige, blue, white, red and green stripes could be seen on the shirt. Had he attended the Common Verbal Usage course at Manticore, lots of expressive adjectives would have crossed Zane's mind at that moment. However, it wasn't the case, so instead he settled for a slight pursing of his lower lip in admiration. Harold smiled at him. Like Murphy, Harold didn't have any teeth, but it looked kind of charming on him. Really. Zane liked Harold instantly, and not only because he had once been a fellow brother in arms. He thought it was due to the glint of calm wisdom in the old man's eyes.

"So, I was wondering, where do you come from?" Murphy asked them abruptly. Maybe it was his way of initiating a conversation. However, Zane wasn't pleased with it. He answered quickly, trying to beat Brin to it; she had caused enough damage for the day.

"My sister and I had to leave home."

"Your sister?" repeated Murphy. The doubt in his voice was certainly due to the complete difference in Zane and Brin's physical appearances.

"Yes, my sister," confirmed Zane roughly, still annoyed.

Fortunately for him, Murphy chose that time to drop the subject. "Anyway," the man shrugged, "Aren't ya both a li'l bit young to run away from home?"

"I said we _had_ to." Zane's patience levels were dropping low by now.

"Where are your parents?" Zane caught Brin's eyes. Both she and Zane gave the old man a blank look. "Do you _have_ parents? " Murphy insisted once more. "A mother? A father? "

Brin chose that moment to add her own two cents; she was aware of her brother's tendencies to act brutally when taunted. This was definitely taunting material in her opinion. She tentatively answered: "No." They didn't know such foreign concepts as parents, mother and father, but they did know they didn't have any.

"Well, you must've certainly come from somewhere. Are you foster kids? I know that foster homes aren't always good. Have you run away?"

'Run away'; Zane knew that phrase. It meant fugitive. His eyes sought Brin's. She had to decide how reply; it was up to her. He looked at her as she assessed the situation. He knew that she was calculating all the risks and the factors her response could create.

"They're not always bad," continued Brin, cautiously. Zane was pretty sure she didn't know what a foster home was; he didn't, why would she know? All he knew was that Manticore wasn't good for them. They had taken away too many of his brothers and sisters, and there were the anomalies from the basement... No, Manticore hadn't been good for them. _That_ he knew. He shook his thoughts away, focusing back on the discussion.

" - - dress Chicago-style and have buzzed hair?"

Zane angrily put a spoonful of soup in his mouth upon hearing the old man. It tasted good, not like anything he had eaten before. He glared at Murphy, silently praying that he would choke on his food. Zane hurried to finish his meal; he wanted to leave that place before Brin spilled out their entire life, or lack thereof.

"Yes. They cut our hair each month," responded Brin.

"Well, I wouldn't cut your hair, Brin. It must be beautiful."

The fact was that Zane didn't even know how Brin looked with hair. He didn't even know what _he_ looked like with hair. He was definitely letting it grow, he decided. But he would wash it often, he added, studying Murphy's dirty strands of salt and pepper hair. He glanced at Harold. The man was looking at him. Zane had almost forgotten him. They shared a little smile.

"Anyway," he heard Murphy say, "Harold and I are heading to our camp in the woods. See, we ran out of Camels and whiskey so we had to come to town to get some. You can both come with us. We'll take care of you. It's better than the freezing streets, eh? " he proposed.

"Really?" said Brin to Murphy then to Harold.

Murphy shared a look with Harold. The other man agreed with a small nod and a smile. "Harold says yes!"

"Oh, thank you!" answered Brin with a big smile.

Zane's eyes grew twice their size and he replayed the conversation in his head, hoping he had gotten something wrong. No; he had understood everything correctly. He snorted and stood up. He had had enough.

"Brin," he said. "Can I have a word with you?" Zane saw her expression darken at his words; having a word was a nice way of asking the permission to speak freely. In general, nothing good could come off of speaking freely.

He waited for her to follow him out of the room. She soon stood inches away from his face, not looking pleased at all. "What is your problem, Zane?" she asked him harshly when they were finally alone.

He unconsciously took a little step back, caught off guard by Brin's aggressive tone. Her eyes narrowed on his when he didn't respond right away. That triggered his own anger, it coming back in full force. "What's important to know is what is _your_ problem."

"Listen. This is what we need. You see tactical exposure to strangers; I see a good cover, a safe house and a roof over our heads. But still you keep harassing me and questioning my motives. Who's in charge here? You or me?"

Zane stayed immobile as if he was a statue of marble but inside, he had his eyes wide open. Never had Brin used that tone in her voice while speaking to him. "You are," he finally admitted through gritted teeth.

"Then be quiet and don't interrupt my plans with your temper, understood?"

"Understood."

Her demeanor softened at his acknowledgement. She tilted her head to the side and bit her lower lip. "We will go with Harold and Murphy. They want to help. Their camp in the woods will be a good safe house. Think about it, Manticore won't search the forest. They'll head to the cities. They'll ask people and search for any hint about us. The woods are the best way to lay low for a time. I want you with me, Zane, not against me. You're my brother and I need you in this."

"You have a plan, a good plan." He admitted reluctantly. Brin turned on her heels, going back toward the cafeteria.

" I like the soup, here," she said, smiling. "I want more of it."

**To be continued...**


	4. Livin’ In Cloud Cuckoo Land

**The Whiz Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, summary, etc.

**Rating**: There are one or two bad words so this chapter is rated K+.

**A/N**: Many thanks to Shywr1ter!

**Chapter 3: Livin' In Cloud-Cuckoo Land**

_(Or, don't you get used to it)_

**Somewhere in the forest, Wyoming, USA **

**0634 hours, May 31, 2009.**

Truth be told, living in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere wasn't nearly as bad as he first thought it would be. Zane could even go as far as saying that it had its perqs, as Murphy would have put it. He had adjusted to his new life really fast; he had even adjusted to Murphy and that, by itself, was saying a lot.

When he had first stepped foot in the small camp, Zane had been baffled; the place looked like nothing he had seen before. Sure, he knew the outside world was different than anything he had seen before, but still the place looked homeyto him. Gone were the gray walls and white floors. Gone were the harsh fluorescents ceiling lights. Gone were the perfectly made, symmetric bunks of the dorms. He took in all the new changes with a wide, impressed and curious look.

The colors of the cabin's polished planks consisted of various tones of brown. There were no walls to separate the living quarters from the ones where they slept. The mess hall consisted of two old looking couches and a chair with special legs –a rocking chair, Murphy had explained when Zane questioned him about it. The old man had thrown him a weird look, as if he should already know this, but Zane couldn't care less. He wanted to give a name to all the new things surrounding him.

"And that," he said, pointing the bizarre-looking clock in the shape of a house. "What do you call that thing?"

The aforementioned "thing" was ticking above the fireplace.

"It's a cuckoo clock," answered Murphy.

Zane had wanted to ask him why it was called that, but didn't, after witnessing the quiet exchange of glances between Murphy and Harold. He didn't want them to become suspicious. Anyway, he figured out by himself quite rapidly what "cuckoo" stood for; the damn thing made him jump for weeks every passing hour. From that first traumatic "cuckoo!" to the time he finally adjusted to its sudden, striking sound, Zane's dreams had consisted of coots and other waterfowl splashing and flapping around. Thankfully, the dreams had dissipated over the time, taking with them the weird, brief phobia too.

The bedroom –another word he had learned that same day- consisted of two twin beds on the far wall in which Harold and Murphy slept; the couches –though old, dusty, and springy- were very comfortable and Zane enjoyed sleeping in them. What he liked about them the most was by far that he didn't have to waste ten minutes each morning to flat the bedding military style, and that was enough to make his day brighter each passing morning.

A few feet away, there was the little kitchenette where Brin was put in charge of rations. For those first few days, he had been reluctant to eat whatever showed up on his plate; then, when his stomach's roars of hunger started waking him up as often as the haunting cuckoos did, he tested her cooking. It wasn't bad; Murphy had even gone as far as to say that Brin would be a great chef someday. '_Or not'_, Zane had thought; from his point of view, Brin was more of a surgeon. That could be mainly explained by the fact that she used to be the medic in their field ops back at Manticore. However, if she wanted to start a career in the culinary department, Zane wouldn't oppose to the choice as long as she cooked food he liked. And Brin just _loved _playing with knifes and she did well with 'em. She seemed to beam with joy with each complimentary about her creations.

The one thing Zane hated the most about that place was the washroom. It was outside and he hated having to pad the entire way out there in the cold winter temperatures to clean himself up under a jet of freezing water. That reminded him of Manticore and by now, all Manticore related thoughts weren't high in his top ten list. There were quite a few things that didn't make that list, like hitting his shin on the coffee table first thing in the morning –that very quickly erased the smile he wore about not having to make the bed.

Their little household was well lit, warm –the washroom being the exception- and powered by a noisily humming generator in the backyard. It broke down every now and then and it was Zane's task to keep it working; Murphy didn't know a thing about machines and Harold had shaky hands. Zane was happy with his task, being the best of his unit in mechanics. He had the knowledge and the desire to be in charge of the beat-up machine.

Despite Murphy's lack of education about a lot of important things even Zane knew at age five, the talkative man wasn't completely useless, as the boy first thought. He had learned a great deal of words, expressions and idioms because of Murphy's expressive nature. He had even learned curses and bad words and every now and then, Zane like to put them to good use. The cuckoo clock would now become the "damn-cooing thing" and the cakked-shin-in-the-coffee-table-leg wake-ups would then be colorfully metamorphosed in "_Be Jesus, it hurts!_"

Still, he preferred Harold to Murphy; it was all about first impressions, he guessed. Harold was awesome at everything, Zane thought, using one of the terms he heard thrown about constantly on the TV shows they were occasionally allowed to watch on a grainy television older than both Brin's and his age combined. He was an excellent fisher and he was an impressive whistler as well, even though he couldn't speak. He had taught Brin and Zane how to ice fish and how to recognize warning signs of snowstorm.

It took Zane a grand total of two months to convince Harold to take him along when hunting. The same night Harold capitulated about taking Zane, Brin had confessed to Zane that she didn't like the idea of killing innocent animals. The next day, she had made a big deal of acting completely clumsy with a weapon, so Harold had wisely decided that only Zane would come with him. The man even went as far as prohibiting his sister to approach the gun cabinet; it was off limits for her. She had shaken her head gravely, hopelessly, but underneath it all, Zane had caught the triumphant gleam in her eyes. Zane had almost laughed his arseoff. If only Harold had known with whom he was dealing...

When Harold had put the rifle –an M1-Garand- in his hands, it was slightly different than any rifle which with he had come in contact during his soldier days, but still, he figured, a weapon is a weapon. He had acted as if he didn't already know how to take it apart in less time than it would take for his lungs to roar the word "_done!_" He did as asked and dismantled the weapon carefully. Once the gun was cleaned and ready to use, Harold taught him how to position himself when firing and how to react to the three different types of jams. All in all, even if he couldn't speak, Zane found out that the man wasn't a bad teacher. He sure knew his lessons.

As he worked with Harold, Zane found it great to be able to use a rifle again. He liked firing; always had, he decided as he zoomed in on a metal can and fired his first shot. The weapon was powerful, but Zane found that the "ping" sound of the clip as it ejected from the top was a tactical disadvantage. Harold had gone to the fallen can and had pursed his lips in admiration at him. He had raised a thumb up, impressed; Zane had grinned. That evening, they had come home with two partridges Brin had the misfortune to prepare for dinner.

After some time, fresh blooms appeared on the branches of newly awakened trees, proving that spring had won the battle over winter. Gone were the bitter cold and the falling snows; sure, it was too cold to walk outside without a light jacket on or to go for a swim in the river, but it was warm enough to spend several hours throwing rocks into its waters from the beach beyond. Soon, Zane noted as he looked upon the vegetation between two thrown pebbles, it would be summer.

"We're going to town," exclaimed Murphy early one morning, as he caught up with them near the flowing water.

Brin and Zane turned on their heels and faced him.

"When?" asked Brin with caution. Zane eyed her. He knew she was calculating if it was safe for them to go into town only three months after their escape. He waited for signs of approval from her; she was the one who made such decisions for them both.

Murphy let his cigarette butt drop to the ground; he crushed one heavy and dusty boot on it. "This afternoon," the elder answered. "I'll soon be out of Camels and whiskey," he continued, by way of explanation.

Brin tilted her head to the side, in deep reflection. Zane put his hands in his pockets, waiting. He sniffed the air, clearing his nostrils, and he caught the scent of pines. He let a cloud of fog escape his lungs. "Will you let me buy spices and veggies while we're there?" Brin asked.

In a heartbeat, Zane frowned upon hearing her request. He saw Murphy's face wrinkle in a similar manner; like Zane, the old man wasn't really fond of vegetables. That was the only thing they had in common; that and their interest in poker, that was. Murphy cleared his throat and spat the content of it on the ground. Zane eyed the sputum with disgust. Yes, a mutual aversion for veggies and a love for poker was all Zane shared with the man.

"Well, I guess we could buy some," responded Murphy after giving the idea some thought.

"Cool!" Brin squealed in delight, hugging Murphy and sprinting toward the cabin. "I'm going to pack for the trip!" she said over her shoulder. Murphy chuckled quietly as he lit a new Camel. Zane let out another breath and rolled his eyes; Brin was becoming way too girlyin his opinion.

They stood in comfortable silence; Zane throwing pebbles and Murphy smoking and studying his young protégé as if he was an insect under a microscope. Zane was aware of Murphy's gaze on him, and it was making his skin crawl. It started to irritate the hellout of him.

"What is it?" he finally asked, his voice much calmer than he felt in reality.

Again, Murphy chuckled; he had learned over their short period of cohabitation how much of a temper the kid had. He offered his Camel to Zane. "You want to try one?"

Zane eyed the offered cigarette with disdain but he took it anyway. Truth be told, he wanted to try smoking. He was like a sponge; he wanted to absorb any new experience he could. He put the butt to his lips and inhaled it. He coughed, and that caused more chuckles from the old man. Zane's disgusted expression had transformed into a thunderous frown by the time Murphy quieted down. Angrily, he drew on the cigarette once again, determined to do it correctly this time. The smoke filled his lungs longer that time. It didn't taste half as bad as it smelled, he decided. Little seconds later, his carefully let out the smoke out of his mouth. Zane gave back the butt to Murphy.

"So, how did you like it?" the old man asked.

"I liked it" Zane smiled up at him.

"Well trust my word, son; don't get used to it," Murphy deadpanned.

/

**Buffalo, Wyoming, USA **

**1737 hours, May 31, 2009.**

They had made some purchases and now they were enjoying a nice meal. Buffalo was pretty much the same as Zane remembered it, but now the bright red tulips and the freshly mowed grass brightened the place even more. People were as obvious as always with their curious, inquisitive glances and the soup kitchen's soup was as great as it was in his memories.

Zane and Harold were eating silently, listening to Brin and Murphy's ramblings about anything that popped into their minds, their forks flying around and clicking happily now and then on their plates, a scene that was typical for Zane's strange little family. However, when Zane, for the umpteenth time, caught an exchange of glances between both old men, he spoke up, cutting short Brin's enthusiastic - and non-interesting, he added mentally - babbling.

"What are you two hiding from us?" he asked with suspicion.

Harold and Murphy seemed to come to some sort of silent agreement and both men turned their attention back on the kids. Murphy finally dropped his bombshell. "We can't let you come back home with us."

**To be continued...**

**A/N2:** I know. I'm so BAD at cliffhanger. More soon! I promise.


	5. Teek Tok Teek Tok…

**The Whiz****z-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

**A/N**: Thanks a million to Shy! And to the wonderful reviewers Mari83 and Brian2008; you guys are giving me courage to continue this story.

**Chapter 4****: ****Teek Tok Teek Tok…**

_(Or, when the bomb went ka-blooey)_

**Buffalo, Wyoming, USA **

**1738 hours, May 31, 2009.**

"What are you two hiding from us?" he asked with suspicion.

Harold and Murphy seemed to come to some sort of silent agreement and both men turned their attention back on the kids. Murphy finally dropped his bombshell. "We can't let you come back home with us," he said, bluntly and sadly.

"What? You can't get rid of us just like that!" exclaimed Brin, her eyes were shining, and Zane suspected it was from unshed tears.

"You need to get an education, to get everything kids have these days, and you won't get that by living with two old men in a log cabin. It's for your own good," explained Murphy as gently as possible.

Brin stood up suddenly and stormed out of the cafeteria toward the exit door. Both men looked at Zane, expectantly, trying to gauge his reaction. Zane did what he thought would be best to them all and he nodded in agreement, like a good little boy. In fact, all he felt at that moment was _loneliness_ and _sadness_; he was _heartbroken_. He felt like he was losing another family altogether. "You're right," he began, hiding his real feelings for the men's benefits, "we do need to go to school." He stood up himself and said with a mask void of emotions firmly in place, "I'm going to find Brin."

It didn't take long to find her. She had been crying –still was- in the back alley of the soup kitchen. When he neared her, he took her shaking form in his arms; she clung to him like a life line, her sobs and tears wrenching his shirt. He tried his best to console her. It wasn't easy; it wasn't easy at all.

**Buffalo, Wyoming, USA **

**1943 hours, May 31, 2009.**

The two of them entered the local Child Protective Services, bags filled with clothes held firmly their hands. Harold and Murphy followed closely behind.

Zane looked around the room; it had high walls and, in the middle of it, stood what he assumed was the reception desk, a computer screen sitting on it. He knew –both from the perfume and the feminine voice- that a woman was hidden somewhere near the desk. All of a sudden, a hand went slapping against the side of the computer screen, bringing alongside with it a myriad of cursed words.

Next to him, Murphy cleared his throat noisily to get the attention of the clerk. Her head immediately shot up from behind the large screen.

"Oh! Hi! How may I help you?" she asked, her face a demonstration of pure surprise and guilt at getting caught swearing, Zane decided after a quick study of her. She was in her late thirties, Zane estimated. She had shoulder-length brown hair and chocolate eyes, was about five foot six and sixty-five kilos. He could take care of her case quite easily if needed to, he judged after some calculations. He shrugged away the thought; he couldn't think like that anymore.

"Hi," greeted Murphy. Then, pointing at them he added: "These two little kiddos here need a new place to stay - - and they need a family."

After answering some awkward questions, some of which Zane or Brin didn't understand, and a discussion with Susan -- whom they'd later learn was CPS's intake manager -- Murphy and Harold said their last goodbyes to them, –very long and tearful ones mostly on Brin's part. As soon as the men had passed the threshold, Susan motioned gently to Zane and Brin to follow her.

Clutching his backpack in his hand, Zane did as directed, Brin following suite.

"Have you eaten?" the woman asked in a sweet voice.

"Yes, ma'am," answered Brin for them both.

Susan – "call me Susie" -- guided them into two different dormitory-like rooms across the wall from each other. They were the only kids present that night. She gave directions regarding the washrooms –an inside one, this time- and bid them good night after instructing them to wash themselves and undo their bags.

**Buffalo, Wyoming, USA **

**0005 hours, June 01, 2009.**

_Threat._

Zane's eyes snapped open; he somehow could sense that something was off. His hand instinctively reached for the fishing knife he kept hidden under his pillow; he had stolen it from Harold's fishing box a few months ago. He had felt only a tiny bit of guilt about doing so but had quickly scratched the feeling away: stealing for protection and self-preservation couldn't be bad, could it?

As his hand expertly and immediately found the reassuring weight of the weapon, his gaze searched Brin's form over the bed next to his - He had come into her room, reluctant to be separate from her by so many walls in an unknown place -- and found her still asleep. It had been common back at Manticore; the little nagging in the pit of his stomach and the tingling on the back of his neck would wake him and the other male X-5s instantly. It used to happen when someone who wasn't part of their unit was about to enter in their barracks, or when something bad was about to happen. He remembered having felt a particularly nasty earthquake hours before it shook the ground beneath them. All of his brothers, like him, had felt it coming and had been restless because of it. His sisters, however, had all been sleeping soundlessly –the exceptions being Jondy and Max, who didn't need that much sleep.

His thoughts came back inside the dormitory bedroom; Zane frowned and took in everything his eyes fell upon. They still were into the CPS facility, he deduced with a quick study of the room. The salty smell of Brin's tears still lingered in the air, more testimony that they were still in the institution's care. However, what bugged him was neither the stillness of the room nor the situation they have been put into; it was something else.

He stood up and walked to the window. He pushed the curtain aside and looked down the street. It was pitch black outside; the streetlamps were completely extinguished.

_Odd_, Zane thought.

He let his eyes accustom themselves to the ambient darkness; it didn't take long for his night vision to kick in and a few heartbeats later, his alert gaze was roaming wildly across the area. It was too calm; something was definitely up. His attention went back inside to his sleeping sister. He walked to her and gently shook her awake.

"Brin, wake up," he whispered.

Her eyes opened slowly, confusion shone in them. She raised up to her elbows**,** then adopted a sitting position. "What is it?"" she demanded her voice thick from sleep and her eyes only half open.

"Something's up," he said. "I can feel it," he added for effect.

Brin kept silent, her eyebrows knit in concentration; both of them listened to the quiet eeriness of the night.

Zane couldn't hear _anything,_ and that was mostly what had freaked him out to begin with. Normally, his enhanced earring would constantly pick up noises such as insects or running water or electricity coursing through the walls; but right now, he couldn't hear a single one of these things. Even the wind seemed to have disappeared somehow. What he could hear was his and Brin's steady heartbeats. It was deathly quiet.

One second the air was devoid of common noises, and the next there was an odd, low, rumbling sound that seemed to grow.

"Zane..." Brin began, uncertainty tainting the single word, even though whispered sounding awfully loud for the circumstances.

The low sounds of mayhem were coming louder by the moment. He assumed that Brin heard them too, as she didn't finish her sentence. He went back to the window and looked outside for a second time. He could see rioters with burning torches. "Rioters," he said, turning back to Brin. She was still in her bed, her short black hair a total mess on the top of her head. He held her gaze: 'what should we do?' his eyes asked her.

They had both known how to react when facing a crowd of rioters since the age of five -it had been part of their training- but somehow, Zane didn't think firing tear gas canisters from the Child Protective Services's second floor would came in a handy at the moment. That and the fact that they were fresh out of tear gas canisters made that choice unworkable for the time being.

Downstairs, glass shattered. Both children exchanged a brief, meaningful look; it was time to come up with a plan and faster would be better. Brin shot out of bed and picked up her backpack of belongings; she quickly grabbed her jeans and put them on.

In the hallway, they heard footsteps running up the stairs. Zane shot a curious yet uncertain glance toward Brin; she, like him, had ceased all movement. The dormitory door opened and it banged against the wall. Both kids started at the loud noise and adopted similar fighting stances; but quickly let them drop when they saw the intruder.

Susan was there, out of breath, flashlight in hand. "Get dressed and grab your things," she ordered as a way of greeting. Zane stood unmoving by the window. "We've got to leave town _now_," she stressed the last word, emphasizing the need to hurry, and went over to stand beside Zane. She put both hands on the windowpane and looked at the approaching crowd. A few seconds passed and she remembered that Zane was still there, next to her. "Go get dressed, Zaniel," she urged gently.

Zane ended his scouting, took two large strides across the room and reached his backpack. Before him, Brin was tying her shoelaces with military precision. He got out of his pajama pants quickly and efficiency and put his own jeans on. A few heartbeats later, he too was bent over his shoes; he made sure the loops of his laces were equal and tucked down inside; now was not the time to trip over his shoelaces.

"What's happening?" Brin asked Susan when she had finished with her packing. Susan shook off of her reverie and fixed them with a steady gaze, obviously questioning if she should tell them. Finally, she responded, "The radio station said there was a nuclear bomb," She walked toward the hallway, and urged, "Hurry up. We've got to go."

Were they under attack? Zane's eyes caught Brin's; something akin to worry shone in them.

**To be continued...**

A/N: There is the event of the pulse for you. Let me know if you liked this chapter. Next part will be set some months later in Zane's near future: don't miss out!!


	6. Gumming up the BGM

No Shalam, No Shalom

**The Whizz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been a little while since I updated this story. I'm sorry for the long wait. As some may already know, English isn't my native language and I'm aiming for a well-written story so it takes time to beta all my full of mistakes chapters! For that, I'd like to thank Shywr1ter again!

**Chapter 5****: Gumming up the B.G.M.**

_(__Or, the rite of passage)_

**Boise, Idaho, USA **

**1014 hours****, November 12, 2009.**

Zane was sitting robot-like at his desk, his arms spread on its surface, his back upright against the chair and his eyes focused on the blackboard up front. He wasn't aware of the awkward pose he was in; it had been a common –not to mention an obligatory- sitting position back at Manticore. Had he been aware of it, he would have stopped sitting so rigidly; not only was it uncomfortable and painful, it also was a tactical error and Zane was all for avoiding them.

So far, he and Brin had succeeded dodging any problem that could have come up. The electromagnetic pulse set off by terrorists a few months before had disabled any electrical apparatus within its blast radius and it had been a great opportunity for them to keep low profiles. That fateful night they had decided to follow Susan, the Foster Care Institute director, who since then was becoming what was for both kids the closest to a mother figure they'd ever had. They also chose to forget about their dark past –albeit without letting their guard down- and acted like the kids they indeed were.

The three of them had made it to Boise, Idaho, to the house of Susie's Great-Aunt. Rioters were causing chaos there too. It was only a few days later before that population learned exactly what had happened, and that didn't, by any means, calm the general havoc. All of a sudden, walking without any kind of protection even in the middle of day had become suicide. It was every man for himself. For the first time, a major portion of America's citizens were faced with the new concept of survival, a notion with which Zane was fairly familiar by then.

It took several weeks for the population to stop their massive self-destructive acts and start to worry about upcoming problems such as dwindling provisions and other general supplies, a deduction Zane's handy military trained intellect had calculated in two point five seconds. Fortunately for their little group, Great-Aunt Joan was one of those people who kept a big supply of canned food in the basement; Zane, with a quick assessing gaze, had estimated that food wouldn't become a problem between the four of them for the next eleven weeks.

It had taken three months for the society to settle back into a semblance of balance. People finally came to the conclusion that their world hadn't completely fallen apart, only the electronic devices surrounding them had. Some of them started to rebuild broken windows and walls, and get back to their quiet little lives.

Then one day, Susan dropped another bomb on them, although not a bomb in the literal sense of the word. It was a bomb much more dangerous and, by far, much more annoying than destructive in Zane's opinion.

"Tomorrow," Susie had said, "both of you are going to school."

Zane hated it right away; the teachers were slow and foolish, the material was useless and the other children were complete idiots. All in all, Susan's new –bomb- had been thoroughly bad.

He had been put in fifth grade and Brin, being his elder by one year, had been placed in sixth. When he had argued – a practice he had picked up quite easily- about that decision, he'd been told that he was too young to be in the same classroom as his big sister and that it would only cause him educational difficulties. He didn't understand what the fuss was about; he had been in Brin's classes forever and he never had any 'educational difficulty' about it before.

The lessons and homework had been fairly easy for the time being. He did well in Mathematics, Sciences, English and Gym –the civilian word for Physical Training - classes. However, History was another thing all together. He felt completely out of the loop when History was concerned and he needed to focus all of his attention on the teacher when he was attending that class. However, he was in English class at the moment and he didn't feel any particular need or desire to listen the day's lesson.

He stretched his stiff muscles; his shoulders were starting to ache from the stillness he had inflicted upon them. He rotated his head in a semi-circular motion and felt a joint cracking in protestation; he immediately felt better.

He ran a hand through his hair; it was getting longer with each passing day. The short silky and curly strands were feeling kind of foreign between his fingers, as if they belonged to someone else. And yet he didn't feel like cutting it anytime soon. When his hair had first started to grow out long enough for him to be able to fist it, it had itched like hell and he hadn't been able to stop himself from tearing red lines into his scalp.

Zane shot a glance to his left; Thomas Jenkins, a boy about his age with a lankier frame and reddish hair, was snoring loudly next to him, snores the X5 knew even the teacher could hear from his standing position at the front of the classroom. Zane was amazed that such a demonstration of disrespect and insubordination was being ignored.

Next to the sleeping boy was Tommy's best friend and acolyte-in-crime, Simon Wilson, who was occupying his free time, a.k.a. his classroom time, drawing on his desk; what started out as a simple draft was now looking like a complicated pattern of maps and coding. Simon caught Zane's glimpse and they exchanged smile. Simon did a choking motion while pointing to the teacher. Zane's grin widened; he too was bored to death; he hoped the class would end soon. Simon's attention returned to his pending creation.

Zane looked beyond Simon and stared outside at the concrete ground of the schoolyard. The concrete of the landscape had been very depressing and had reminded both him and Brin of a parade square -- until he had discovered basketball and Brin hopscotch games.

He yawned and looked at the broken clock above the blackboard and frowned at it. He wished he had a watch. He fixed a deadly glare on the teacher and, with the force of his mind, tried to convince him to finish the class earlier, which the man ignored. Zane never had that much luck. He sighed.

Twenty minutes after, he finally found himself on the entrance stairs of the school, waiting for Brin so they could head home together.

"Hey Zane," Thomas Jenkins spoke up and Zane looked up from his sitting position to him. Beside the redheaded boy stood Simon.

"Hey," he greeted them.

"What are you doing sitting there all by yourself?" Thomas continued.

"I'm waiting for my sister."

"Ah," the boy answered.

Simon took on the conversation from there on: "You see that B.G.M. over there?"

"B.G.M.," repeated Zane numbly, looking in the general direction of the pointed finger.

"Yeah, you know. That's the bubble gum machine."

Zane's gaze stumbled upon a colorful looking gadget. 'That could be the machine', he contemplated. "I see it."

"Well, if you gum it up, you'll get to hang out with us."

Zane looked between Thomas and Simon. They wanted him to be part of their pack. Zane could do nothing but to agree. He also felt the need to belong to a group. He had thought that only his transgenic instincts dictated him to do so and he was pleasantly surprised to find out that human nature, in general, worked the same way; maybe he was more human than he first thought he was, after all. However, there was a persistent doubt in the scheme. He voiced it out, catching both boys off guard by the question.

"Why do you want me to hang out with you?"

Thomas and Simon exchanged similar uncertain glances and finally, Simon shrugged at him, shaking the interrogation away. "You seem cool enough to hang out with us."

That was all it took to convince Zane. He stood up, smirked at them and strode out of the schoolyard, focused by his mission; gumming up the B.G.M. How hard could it be? It couldn't be that tough. The parameters, as unclear as they were –he still hadn't found out what gumming up meant- were easy enough. There were no Manticore guards watching his every move or hungry -and very angry he might add- dogs waiting to get a bite out of his butt. This mission, he decided, would be a piece of cake.

He crossed the street and halted in front of the entrance of a convenience store; he could see the shining bubble gum machine through the store windows. He looked over his shoulder; Simon and Thomas waved at him to continue, as if he would back up from the objective. He smirked one more time at them before entering the run-down store.

As he set foot into the place, a bell rang upon his head. Zane let his gray gaze wander around the room. A clerk, an old man in his mid-fifties, was standing behind the counter, cleaning what look like a Smith & Wesson 1911. He stopped his work long enough to gaze up at his new customer. The weapon did not frighten the young transgenic one bit.

Zane walked up in front of the machine and studied it. He looked at all the multicolored small balls he assumed were _bubble gum balls_. He could smell the sweetness of them, coming right thought the glass. He was still pondering on the meaning of gumming up when the clerk cleared his throat loudly, stood up and started walking his way to Zane.

Zane put all of his attention on the man, his stare never leaving the objective, until the man stopped next to him.

"Do you want some chewing gum, kid?"

Zane looked up to him. The man had salt and pepper hair and moustache and smelt of tobacco; he kind of reminded him of Murphy.

"I guess," he said warily.

"Well, do you want some, yes or no?"

"Yes? " Zane answered with doubt in his voice.

"It costs twenty-five cents. Do you have twenty-five cents, son?"

"No, Sir."

"I guess you can't have any, then," the mean man -as Zane decided to call him right then- replied with a matter-of-fact tone. Zane almost pouted at that. Almost. He also had the unexpected urge to kick the B.G.M. and break it into pieces just to annoy the infuriating man and he almost did just that. Almost.

"Don't get any ideas," the man spoke in a threatening voice and Zane thought for an instant that maybe he was getting out of practice at hiding his intentions. "Don't want you to gum up the whole place 'coz of your temper."

All of a sudden, Zane understood the meaning of gumming up. He smirked at the man with a gleam in his pale eyes; the elder recoiled a little in shock, realizing that he wasn't speaking with a normal kid. "That's sad," stated Zane, "I really wanted some gum." He took a step in the direction of the man.

"Wait, I may have a quarter somewhere for you," the older man said. A few heartbeats later, he shakily placed a quarter in Zane's little, yet deadly, hand. "Go ahead," the man said, trying to pull himself together, "I'm buying." He turned on his heels, heading back to his counter and weapon.

Zane studied the back of the man, then the coin in his hand and finally the B.G.M. Zane knew the old guy wouldn't dare using his weapon against a kid and anyway, if he did use it, Zane could dodge the bullets easily. His gaze wandered outside; he could see Thomas and Simon in the schoolyard by the stairs, where he had left them. They were waiting patiently, hands in their pockets. It took him a fraction of second to evaluate his new situation. Then he acted on it, his decision made.

Zane shot out a fist into the bubble of glass. The old man cried out in indignation and turned back toward Zane as he heard the havoc of hundred of bubble gum balls rolling in every direction. Zane bent and grabbed a handful of gum balls then made a run for the exit.

"Come back here, little punk!"

Zane opened the door and stepped outside, the clerk hot on his tail. An overwhelming feeling of excitement was beating in his chest. He saw Thomas and Simon running toward him. They met up on the other side of the sidewalk and continued running down the street, their laughter echoing against the surrounding buildings.

"Damn brats!" Zane's ears could decipher and that made him laugh harder.

They finally made it to a secluded alley. Thomas and Simon were out of breath, but still, they managed to grin like madmen. Zane was bouncing on his heels, his whole body pumping with adrenaline, his eyes bright.

"That was totally crazy, man!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was freaking crazy!"

Zane puffed his chest in satisfaction. "I know," he said, not modest in the least. He opened his hand; three gum balls were in it. He gave one to each boy and put the last one in his mouth. He made a face; the thing tasted awful. Tommy and Simon laughed out loud at this.

"Well, man, you certainly won your place with us!" Simon raised his fists; Thomas' one followed suit. Zane rose his own when he saw both boys expecting him to do the same. Zane imitated them and the three of them bumped fists together.

When he returned home, it was almost dark outside. Susan had been waiting for him, impatient, worried and fuming all at once. It was the first time he was being disciplined by an adult since the escape, Murphy apart. She sent him into his room after what felt like a never-ending reprimand in which he feared losing half his hearing.

As he entered his bedroom, he felt Brin's presence before seeing her. She was on his bed, sitting still, her face an indecipherable mask. He let his backpack drop to the floor and placed his jacket neatly on the back of his chair, ignoring her. She wasn't his superior officer, nor was she his superior in rank; they had escaped from Manticore and he didn't have to follow its rules now that he was out of it. Brin had better not scold him too.

He sat down next to her and started to untie his shoelaces. He kicked out his shoes beside his backpack. He stripped off his t-shirt and waited impatiently for Brin to speak.

"You're going to stay there until I'm naked or what?" he asked her roughly.

Brin turned her head toward him; her Asian features were strikingly apparent with the soft glow of the starlight coming from the window. He looked at her as she stared into the gloom of the room. Her eyes were the shape of almonds; and relief was shining in them. Zane instantaneously felt bad about coming home so late.

"I thought Manticore had come for you."

That was an entirely different type of punishment. He knew how to deal with screaming people. He knew how to deal with stoic silence. However, he didn't know how to deal with guilt. "I'm sorry," he said simply, his bad mood forgotten.

He hugged her to him and she began to cry quietly. He lay down and he put his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I'm here. I'm alright," he said, trying to console her. He brushed her growing hair away from her forehead and kissed the soft skin, his arm wrapped around her. "You know that I'm tough. You won't get rid of me as easily."

She laughed lightly between her tears, her good mood coming back slowly.

"We can't always live in fear that Manticore will catch up with us, Brin. If we do, we won't live fully free -- and that was the purpose of getting out of Manticore. We have to stop acting like soldiers and act like normal kids. We have to _be_ kids."

Zane examined her as she pondered his words. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head; for someone who had been told and taught to hide her emotions and motives, Brin was quite the opposite.

"I want to be a kid, Zane. I really do," she said finally, her voice small in the big room.

"Me too," he stated, absolutely persuaded of it. He wanted to be a normal boy. He wanted to play basketball, he wanted to sleep in class, he wanted to have good friends unaware of what he really was, and he wanted to gum up many other bubblegum machines. This afternoon was the first time he had felt as free, as young and as obviously happy as he'd ever been.

"You know, sometimes, I feel like I've never been a soldier."

Zane concentrated his attention back on his sister. He smiled at her. "That's because you never were a soldier on the inside."

"I think you're right. " They exchanged smiles and Brin's mood seemed to brighten a little. "I've never tell you this but I like to make up stories about who I would be if I wasn't me."

He frowned, interested. He had always wondered how she had got that imagination of hers. Brin had been, as far as he could remember, an imaginative girl with full of energy and plenty of wisdom. "Who are you in your stories?" he asked, out of curiosity. Her eyes were still slightly red from her tears.

"It depends. In one of them, I'm the daughter of an archeologist and I follow my father everywhere around the world, like the little girl in the book Harold was reading back in the woods. You remember? " At Zane's nod, she continued. "In others, I'm a tight rope walker, in a circus. And before you ask, you're always in them. Do you want to know who you are?" She looked at him expectantly, enjoying the conversation.

"I don't care what I am as long as I am not a hairdresser," Zane continued. He had heard stories about hairdressers; they were guys with a weird fetishism about hair. Zane sure didn't want to be one of them.

"You're no fun," she pouted.

"Yeah, I know," he said with a satisfied smile then added. "I'm tired."

"Oh! Can I sleep in your bed?"

"You're already all over it already, so yeah, I guess."

"You, Zani-Zane, are becoming quite the teenager with your tantrums and smart mouth."

"Don't talk like you're ten years older than me. You're not even a year older than me. And I don't have a temper," he pointed out.

"Shut up, kiddo," she retorted as she closed her eyes and got comfortable beside him. "I'm trying to get my beauty sleep."

"You sure need it at your old age."

"Hey!" her eyes went from peaceful and closed to shocked and wide opened. She launched her pillow at him, offended. He laughed at her and launched it right back. She jumped away from the bed and covered her head from the upcoming blow, meshes of black hair tangling together. He attacked, tickling her ribs with mad fingers. She was left to beg and laugh for his mercy.

"Sabrina! Zaniel! " A loud voice yelled from downstairs. They stopped all movements, their smiles still firmly in place. "Be quiet and go to sleep already!"

"She's mad at you," said Brin in a singsong voice.

Zane rolled his eyes at her and went calmly to his bed. He lay down and pulled the covers up to his armpits. He heard Brin do the same from her side of the bedroom.

"Good night, Brin."

"Good night, Zani."

"Don't call me that," he said.

He waited for Brin to fall asleep, as he always did since the escape. It was his way of taking care of her. He paid attention to her breathing and judged that she was fast asleep. He stood up and went to her bed. The light coming from the window was casting a soft halo around her sleeping form. He gently brushed a stray of shoulder-length hair off of her cheek, and he caressed the softness of her skin. He sat down on the floor, crossed-legs watching her sleeping peacefully.

Brin was a sound sleeper ever since the escape. He thought that it was carelessness, but deep down, he was amazed at how well she had adapted. Maybe she felt safe. Maybe she knew he was looking out for her.

Finally, Zane yawned. He ran a hand through his messy hair and went to bed. That night, his dreams were haunted by the sounds of a hundred bubble gum balls hitting the floor and those of laughter.

That night, he was a boy; only a boy.

**To be continued...**


	7. All that Zoom Zooms for Wham Whams

**The Whizz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your comments. I'm sorry it took so long to post another chapter; however, I must say that it hasn't been beta read so I'm sorry for eventual wrong sentence structure. I'll try to find another willing beta reader; it is not a easy task now that the story is started. Anyway, I swear it won't take as long to post the next chapter. I've got three or four of them just sitting, dying to be published. On that, have fun reading! ^^

A/N 2: This chapter starts five years where the last one left us. Zane is now fourteen years old. Brin is one year older.

**Chapter 6****: All that ****Zoom-Zooms for Wham-Whams**

_(__Or, I prefer watching grass grow)_

**Boise, Idaho, USA **

**0722 hours, May 14, 2014.**

"Sabrina! Come here right away! Your breakfast is getting cold!"

Zane put a spoonful of cereals into his mouth and chewed the food slowly. His seemingly half-closed eyes were very much alert behind his eyelids. From his sitting perch at the island counter, he was observing his adoptive mother's every move in the kitchen as she prepared the lunch bags for the three of them. She was so responsible, so task oriented. She took great care of Brin and him.

"Brin! Get your lazy butt down here, young woman!" Susan shouted; Zane closed his eyes when the noise reached his sensible ears. "I swear that this girl will drive me crazy with taking hours to get ready."

He chuckled slightly while chewing. He looked as his mother accidentally spilled some of the orange juice she was pouring onto the floor. "Damn it," she voiced, grabbing a washrag from the sink and bending down to wipe it up. A few heartbeats away, she stood back up and sighed deeply, gazing at him.

"Zane, can you please go up and get your sister?"

"Kay," he mumbled, getting up from his seat. He took the stairs two at a time. When he arrived in front of Brin's door, he banged on it. "We're gonna be late for school, Brin," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Zane heard an aggravated sigh coming from the other side of the door. It was quickly followed by make-ups being put aside and loud footsteps. Brin opened the door. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, geez." But she went back inside her room in front of her mirror. Zane entered in the bedroom; it smelt of fruity perfume and another scent he associated with Brin. He sat on her bed. He studied his sister from the new angle as she applied lipstick on her lips.

He felt the strange desire to taste them. As the envy crept its way up his spine, he forced himself to remember that Brin –the annoying, girly and lightheaded Brin- was his sister. Since a few months already, his thoughts, his feelings and his perceptions of things were different than what they used to be. He didn't know if it was a bad or a good thing yet. He felt that he was growing up to be a man. Or maybe was it the beast in him trying to pop out. What he did know was that his hormones were at fault; he could felt the changes boiling inside of him. That caused him the desire to see under every girl's tees he met up with. Like Sasha. Or Janis. Or -

"Well, you're coming or not?"

Zane shot out of his reverie. He looked at Brin; she was waiting for him at the doorway. She turned on her heels and headed downstairs with the dramatic way of teenage girls. He followed her down, rolling his eyes. "Whom do you want to impress with the make-ups, anyway?" he asked to get under her skin like the good little brother he was.

"Shut up, Zane," she responded as they made their way to the kitchen.

Susie sent a reproachful glare to Brin: "Don't speak to your brother that way."

"Is it Jim? Or is it Anton? Please, tell me it's not that geek from computer class..." Zane taunted her; he liked it when she got her knickers in a twist.

"Ha-ah! That's very funny. I said s-h-u-t up."

"Sabrina! Don't use that word! Zane, stop harassing her!" Brin shot him a furious scowl; he grinned at her. "Brin, eat your breakfast already," ordered their mother.

"I'm not hungry, mom."

"Well I'm bone-tired and I still need to go at work all day long. Do you see me sleep? Take an apple at least."

Brin took her lunch bag and the offered fruit, knowing better that refusing it. Susan Sanford may not have been from Manticore, but she could become very nasty if one didn't follow her rules. Zane took after her, picking up his own lunch bag with an apple and a banana from the fruits bowl on the counter before leaving. He didn't know how Susan happened to put her hands on such rare goods but he wasn't one to let them go unnoticed. He grinned boyishly at Susan, blew her a kiss and took off.

As they walked toward the school, Zane peeled the banana and took a bite out of it. He was half way between chewing it and gulping it when he spoke again: "Be careful with those heels, sis. You may kill someone."

"You're such a brat, Zane," she deadpanned, the pounding of her heels increasing proportionally with her annoyance with him. He smiled to himself, satisfied with her reaction to his teasing. She scowled at him for what seemed like the billion times and decided to walk in silence, ignoring him.

"I see you woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he said sarcastically. Again, her eyes shot daggers. He rolled his eyes and kept chewing in silence.

"It's Anton," she finally dropped after some time.

"I knew it!" He saw a smile appeared at the corner of her lips but she kept her annoyed expression firmly in place. "Captain of the basketball team; that's better than the geek, I guess," he continued.

"Zane, I hate to break it to you like that but you _are_ a geek."

"Nope. I'm a computer genius. Big difference. I don't get off by being behind a computer screen."

"Yark. That's just gross."

"Anyway, it's not my fault that I was born with computer skills. I wonder which animal had geekiness in its cocktail."

"Wild card here: you?"

"I guess we'll never know," he added with a false pout.

That finally got a laugh from Brin. They continued their route in companionable discussions. When they arrived at school, they separated, heading toward their respective friends. Zane spotted Tommy and Simon, his pals, and he approached them.

"Yo, Z, my man," exclaimed Simon. Zane smiled at him.

Thomas spoke: "We thought you'd be late. You'd have missed the show."

"Artists never miss their grand opening," said a grinning Zane. They chuckled lightly at this.

Without any more word spoken, the three of them turned around, facing the bricks-made facade of the school. Students were gathering inside, getting ready for the upcoming classes. He could see Brin and her girly chums. They were all wearing something beige - it must have been beige day in their little clique; they were a weird lot. They were speaking animatedly, certainly fussing about their uneventful weekends or latest respective crushes. "I see that the show hasn't started, yet," Zane spoke with connivance, crossing his arms over his chest smugly.

"It's a matter of seconds now," answered Thomas as he checked his watch. "Seven seconds to eight. Five, four, three, two, let the waterworks begin..."

At the exact second, two things happened. First of all, the school bell rang; that was a non-surprising event as they were all waiting for the damn thing to let the torture begins and ends their fun. But at the very same instant, something one could qualify of a total disaster, or a totally rocking idea –depending of one's point of view on the matter- occurred. The main hall sprinklers jerked to life, soaking to the bones all the students with water. Zane and his sidekicks saw the red-colored water raining down everywhere in the building; Zane's mad grin widen as he heard indignant and furious screams.

"I guess we could now say that it's a beige-no-more day," said Simon. The three boys started laughing uncontrollably.

***

One minute they were bumping fists, happy with the stunt they had pulled, and the next one they were sitting in the principal office with the very fuming –not to mentioned wet– principal. Simon opened his mouth to speak but his tentative was cut short with a glare of the administrator. The man was staring at them in stony silence.

Zane was bored. His legs were jerking impatiently, itching for some action. He sighed restlessly.

"I see that you are as bored with the situation as I am, Mr. Sanford. "

Zane kept quiet and ignored the man; he had learned over the time that looking casual was the key in pretty much every situation of life.

"What are we waiting for, anyway?" asked Tommy.

Principal Putman looked at Thomas coldly: "_We_, Mr. Jenkins, are waiting for the firemen to report the situation to us" Zane rolled his eyes and the principal's gaze went back on him; he swore the man had hawk genes in his cocktail, "so we can decide of a punishment up to your prowess."

Almost half an hour later, a fireman entered the room and made his way over to Mr. Putman. They exchanged hushed words – words that Zane took no interest in eavesdropping - and he left. Principal Putman sat back in his seat and eyed the three boys. "I have been informed that this was a false alarm, as I suspected. Apparently, someone poured red dye into the fire sprinklers reservoir and set a trigger device in the alarm system. Does anyone of you, by any chance, know something about this? " His interrogation was met with more silence. "Or maybe we should ask that question to your parents?" the man continued.

"What do you want from us? Confessions?" Thomas spoke up again.

"It's quite simple what I want, Mr. Jenkins. I want the truth. I'm not an unfair man, but I am prepared to give each one of you more than just a few hours of detention if no one speaks. Hacking into the school emergency system is a very serious crime."

The room felt quiet once more.

"I did it," Zane spoke up for the first time since he had put foot in the office. All eyes in the room zeroed on him. "I hacked into the emergency system, set up the sprinklers and poured dye into the water tank." He knew it would be better if only one of them was to be disciplined, and why not him? He was stronger both physically and mentally; he would take the blame for his friends. He only risked a month of detention or two weeks of expulsion at top. He could handle that; he had once endured much more at Manticore.

Simon growled at him: "No! The whole thing was my idea."

"It was _my_ doing," added Tommy.

Zane shot them both nasty glares. He was trying to make things easier for them, and there they went, ignoring his bravado and sacrifice.

"Well, well, Mr. Sanford. That's very brave of you to put all the blame on yourself but I think there's more to it than your version. I'm sure the master achievement of the hacking was your work - I know all about your impressive achievements in computer classes- but do not flatter yourself; I do not think you've come up with that entire scheme all by your little self. "

Zane scowled. Was the man questioning his intelligence? It _had_ been his idea. Sure, that wasn't him alone that had poured the red dye but nonetheless, it had been his plan. He was pissed now. No, he was beyond pissed. He frowned fiercely, thinking about standing up from his seat and leaving the room. Slamming the door angrily behind him would be a nice touch too, he added mentally. However, he breathed deeply and tried to calm his raging nerves. He ran a hand through his wind-ruffled hair furiously and finally settled for crossing his arms and feet in mute anger.

"Since I have all the proofs that I needed, I'll say that three weeks of suspension and two months of detention after school will be enough of a sanction. That is for the three of you. I think the school walls won't mind a little clean up from all those graffiti."

Putman was a real despot. Somehow, the man must have known the tagging were their doing. Zane clenched his jaw firmly. Life had a bittersweet way to kick you back in the crotch. A god up there was certainly laughing is ass off on him.

***

"I know that television rocks your world but, will you get out of that couch sometime today? "

He looked momentarily at Brin; she had her hands to her hips, looking quite the aggravating teenage girl that she was. Her shoulder-length black hair was falling upon her barely covered shoulders. She was wearing a mini jeans skirt and knee-high socks. Zane refrained himself from double-checking her petite frame and instead, concentrated on her annoying words. The ability to easily multitask was a good advantage to being an X5, he decided. He couldn't care enough about what she told him; she still was pissed off about the whole sprinklers dealio. Sure, it had cost her one of her favorite outfit but nonetheless; he was tired of having her on his case. It had been nearly two weeks ago; couldn't she get over it?

Shrugging, he scratched his chest lazily, grabbed a soda and cracked open the can in a hiss. "I'm planning to peel off my navel-fluff and zzzzolch all day long. Give me the remote before you leave, would you? " Zane asked back, unaffected by her antics.

Brin rolled her eyes; it was such a typical Zane response. He had already turned his gaze back to the television. Sighing loudly, she grabbed the remote from the coffee table and put it brutally in his waiting hand. "Have fun with your fluff. Mom is coming home late tonight."

Zane waited until he could hear her clacking heels no more and tuned in the television volume. Putting his hands behind his neck, he brazed himself for the rough day to come.

***

Sometime during the afternoon, he woke up with a start; he must have actually fallen asleep. His eyes fluttered open as he studied his surroundings; no one but him was home. He was still alone. Yet, he wondered for a second what had awakened him. Maybe the neighbor's cat was chasing a rat once again, or maybe he was having a weird dream or something akin to that.

He yawned, turned off the TV and climbed on his feet, needing to pee. He was heading toward the washroom when his attention diverted toward the hallway. Something within him -call it a sixth sense or a warning bell- alerted him that he was not alone anymore. He hadn't heard anything but he felt that someone was in the dinning room. That stopped him in his tracks. He pushed himself against the wall, taking out his Swiss army knife, and waited patiently, holding his breath.

Then, he heard light –almost inaudible- noises of footsteps; had he had normal hearing abilities, he would never have picked up on them. They were coming his way. They belonged to a normal weight person and judging by the laps of time between each footstep, he knew it had to be a person about his length. Hadn't he known better, he could have mistaken the intruder for Simon, but the person was trying to be silent and silence wasn't Simon's motto in life; his friend was more of a 'heading noisily toward the kitchen to raid the refrigerator' type of guy. The unwelcome visitor stopped quietly in the doorway, inches away from him. Zane knew the guy was seconds away from checking out the hallway to see if there was anyone there.

Zane decided to act first. With his right hand –his left hand was holding his pocket knife- Zane grabbed the guy by his coat and pulled him out of the kitchen. The stranger struggled to keep his footing and Zane took the momentum to encircle his arm around the guy's chest and to bring his weapon to the guest's throat.

"Zane?" the guy asked. Zane assumed his opponent's quick breathing was due from both the surprise effect of the attack and the short altercation it had ensued.

Zane frowned but answered anyway. "In the flesh. Care to say who _you_ are? "

In the split of a second, the rival had Zane losing his balance with a backward kick in the shin and an elbow jab in the stomach. Zane's knife went flying in the air as he struggled to keep his footing.

"I'm Zack."

**To be continued...**

_________________________________________________________


	8. Man Of The Hour

**The Whizz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

A/N: Hi again. I know it's not in my habits to publish two chapters in short term notice but like I mentioned in chapter six, I have more chapters in store, ready to be post. So here is chapter seven; a little short some may think… Tell me what you think about it, please!

**Chapter 7****: Man of the Hour**

_(Or,_ _enters Zack, the killing machine__)_

**Boise, Idaho, USA **

**1443 hours, May 30****, 2014.**

When the moment of confusion was over Zane opened his mouth in surprise, waiting for his brother to face him. When he did so, Zane eyed him from head to toes; the eyes that stared back at him were unmistakably Zack's.

His big brother hadn't change all that much. He was a little taller and bulkier than he'd been back at Manticore, but Zane, even by being younger than him by two years, was already three good inches taller than him. Zack's face was as expressionless as he could remember it being, and his somewhat buzzed hair were now cut short and of a light blonde shade.

"I'm so glad to see you, bro!" Zane said. Had he been a woman, he would have squealed and throw himself at his brother, but he was no woman, so he opted for a manly hug that Zack reciprocated.

He saw Zack's grim smile widen, his enthusiasm must have been contagious. "Me too," spoke his older brother and commanding officer.

"Brin will be ecstatic when she'll see you! How have you been? How are you? Are you hungry? Do you want a soda? "

"Yes, please," Zack nodded. Zane went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He bent down, reaching for two cans of his favorite sweet. "Where have you been?" he asked with his head still inside the appliance.

"Searching for you all."

He stood up and looked at his brother. "I was wondering when you'd show up. It took you long enough."

Zack was eying the room warily, his eyes mesmerizing every detail about it. "I had a hard time getting track of Brin and you."

"I guess it was. We've never been classified before the Pulse."

He handed Zack his drink, looked as his brother uncapped the can and took a large sip from it. He watched Zack's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped the liquid. After a short instant, Zack asked. "Why aren't you at school?"

"I, I-" Zane stammered a little. "I got expelled for three weeks."

Zane frowned at him. "Why?"

"Ah, the normal stuff, you know. I pulled a little stunt to have a few laughs" Zane answered, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed at both having to tell his CO and having been caught in the act.

"That was stupid of you." It seemed that Zack hadn't work that much on his people skills over the years.

Was he being reprimand? Zane scrunched his nose in disbelief and his mouth opened slightly at what he heard. "What?" He pronounced, dumbfound.

"Don't get in any more problems; yours and Brin's lives depend on it."

Zane scowled at this, the can of soda completely forgotten in his hand. "Aren't you being slightly paranoid here? A little innocent fun isn't the end of the world, bro."

Zack took a step forward, getting in his face. "I mean it, Zane. Don't let your guard down. Manticore is still there, looking for us."

Zane frowned; something in the tone of voice of Zack was making him uneasy. With something akin to worry etching in his voice, he demanded: "Has something happen to one of the others?"

"Don't worry about that." Zack's voice was authoritative and it broke no argument. "It's my job."

Zane set down his can of soda before he crushed it. "Tell me," he persisted, staring in Zack's eyes, challenging him to keep quiet. Zane tilted his chin upward, taking full advantage of the few inches he had on his older brother. Zane knew better than questioning his CO. However, he couldn't stop the concern creeping its way up his spine. He needed to know. "Tell me," he insisted again.

Zack's face, devoid of any expression except for austerity, stared right back at him. Zane felt anger fuelled up inside of him. If his brother kept silence any time longer, he would punch the answer out of him, older or not, commanding officer or not. He fisted his hands into two tight balls of knuckles.

"Zack, is that you?" The awkward moment was cut short when Brin's hopefully voice spoke up in the tension filled room. Both boys turned their attention on her; they hadn't heard her come in. Zane saw her eyes narrowed as she took in the aggressive standoff between them. "Is everything alright?" she voiced up, unsure.

"Yeah, there's nothing to worry about," answered Zack. He shot a quick –yet meaningful- look to Zane and turned back toward Brin. "Hey, little sister," he said, a small smile enlightening his dark mood. In a flash, Brin was standing beside them, squealing and throwing herself at her newfound brother. Zack chuckled lightly.

"I knew you'd come to see us," she said, happiness tainting her words and a sweet smile lightening up her angelic features. Zane saw her breathe in Zack's familiar scent, something he too had missed over the years. "I'm so glad that you're here. Where have you been?"

Zack shrugged and caught Zane's gaze over Brin's dark hair: "I've been traveling a lot," he said simply.

Brin showed the table. "Sit down! Do you want something? A drink, maybe?" Zack raised the can of soda he still had in hand. "I see Zane hadn't completely forgotten his manners."

Zane rolled his eyes and sat down, waiting for them to follow his lead; they complied. Once all comfortable, Brin spoke once more: "I have so many questions. I don't know where to start!" she expressed excitedly, bouncing on her chair.

Zane interrupted her, going strait to the point, to the one question he desperately wanted an answer for: "How many of us made it out?"

Brin lost her smile, Zack would have too; that is if he too had been smiling to begin with. And had it been possible, a blanker mask would have slip on his face. For a split second, Zane feared his brother would just ignore his words.

Zack, after giving it some thoughts, spoke: "So far, I've found seven of you, including you both."

Seven; that meant eight with Zack. Eight of them had made it out of Manticore_._ He smiled. He was sure they were more of them that still needed to be found.

"Who?" The question was out of Zane's mouth before he even thought about it.

He saw Zack struggled with it, certainly debating if he should tell them as much. His brother was _way_ too serious. For a second, he even had Zane wondering if he could smile from time to time. "I've found Tinga, Ben, Jondy, Vada and Kavi."

Zane exchanged a smile with Brin.

"Are they," Brin shrugged and bit her lips, her eyes momentarily going to the table top; she looked like she was pondering which word would better fit her sentence, "happy?"

It seemed like a pretty dumb question but Zane knew better; he knew that behind the innocent words laid a genuine concern and vulnerability. That reminded him why he loved Brin so much. Behind her make-ups, her fashion victim act and her stereotypical bimbo front, she had a sweet heart. She had always been the most humanitarian of the pack. "Yes, I think they are," Zack's offhand response was a total disappointment for Zane, but Brin was beaming with joy with it.

They stayed in silence for some time, none really knowing what to say to make conversation. Zane and Brin knew that Zack wouldn't dare speaking more about their brothers and sisters so they kept quiet. Rapidly, the silence became near uncomfortable.

"How are you doing at school?" Zack said after a moment.

Brin smiled and somehow, Zane find it seemed a little force: "We're both doing great. I'm taking guitar lessons in options class and Zane's learning French. I could play you a piece, to show you," she rambled. "If you want," she added afterwards.

Zack flashed her a quick smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and retorted: "Yes. I would like you to play something,"

Zane set his gaze on his thumb's nail and kept silent. He found that the conversation was already awkward and adding his two cents would make it much more embarrassing. He could mentally see Brin biting her lower lip. Some seconds later, Zack bent over the table and started rummaging in his backpack.

Brin's elbow stabbed Zane in the ribs. He shot her a quick glance. 'Speak' he could read on her lips. He shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say. They hastily returned to their respective postures as Zack settled himself back on his chair. Their brother put a large bundle of money on the table top.

"Here, take that," he said.

Zane looked at the money and then at Zack. "You're giving us money," he stated. Zack looked at him, seemingly embarrassed with the statement. He also saw the nasty glare Brin shot his way.

"I guess I'll just go," Zack said after a moment.

He stood up and Brin shot out of her seat. "You're leaving. So soon?"

Zack faced them, "I've got a couple of things that needed to be taken care of. I'll be staying in town for a couple of days so we'll see each other again sometime this week."

Brin sat back down, beside Zane. "Hum, okay," she said, clearly disappointed and that made Zane want to punch some sense into his brother.

"Here, remember these," Zack said uncomfortably, sliding a piece of paper over the tabletop. Brin picked it up and Zane stretched out his neck over her shoulder to look at the neat written words; even Zack's writing hand was organized and professional. Zane mentally snorted at this. "The first one is a contact number for emergencies." Zane's gaze went from the paper to his brother's serious face. "The second one is a voicemail number. I want you to call it every Monday to check in."

Zane nodded, waiting for Brin to reply, but as he looked at her, he noticed that she was on the verge of crying. "Okay. Thank you, Zack. See you in a couple of days," he finally spoke for the both of them.

Seconds later, Zack was gone, letting Zane to deal with a crying Brin. He hated weeps. He let out a sigh and put his arms around her, bringing her smaller form to his.

"Shhhh. Don't cry, Brinnie."

"He was like a stranger. I," she continued, "didn't even," she sniffed a little, "know what to say to him," she finally said between some sobs.

"Yeah, I know. Me neither."

**To be continued...**

A/N 2: So, far, I've had comments about people missing Murphy and Harold. Do not miss them too much, since the beginning I was planning some twists in the future. You'll just have to stay put and bear with me until Zane gets a little older. ^^

A/N 3: I was forgetting: thank you so much for the reviews. I'm a reviewvore (reviewvore, yes!) and I enjoy reading everyone's perceptions of my writing. Thanks again!!!

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	9. Let The Cat Outta’ The Bag

**The Whizz-Kid**

A/N: First of all: THANK YOU so much for the reviews. I'm happy I'm starting to get some more. I'm completely ecstatic that you're following me through this journey! It's giving me more confidence regarding my writings and much more dedication to our lovely duet. Hope to write from your very soon. Love you!

A/N 2: Alright folks. The story is getting a little darker now. The disclaimer in the prologue stated that I was to inform when it would and here we are. Still, it's rate teen. However, there's sexual situation as well as a little bit of violence.

**Chapter 8****: Let The Cat Outta' The Bag**

_(__Or,_ she itched like crazy_)_

**Boise, Idaho, USA **

**0722 hours, June 05****, 2014.**

The morning had started normally. He had waken up, taken a shower, headed downstairs to grab an appetizing breakfast and had gone banging on Brin's door, prying her to hurry up so they wouldn't be late for school. So far, everything had gone smoothly.

"We're gonna be late for school _again_," Zane said, annoyed.

He waited for the usual infuriating sigh that had yet to come from Brin's side of the door. Should he barge in and pull her out of her room or threaten to leave without her? "Bri-in-nie?" he tried again in a sing-song voice.

Yet again, she didn't answer. Zane had his curiosity picked; Brin would have already shouted at him to shut up by now. Sure, she had been off of it for the last few days following Zack's visit and abrupt departure. He knew that not recognizing her big brother had affected her greatly; and had he be honest with himself, it would have affected him as much. But Zane wasn't one to let such things demoralized him; he let them slide off of him.

Shoving his thoughts away, he put his ear against the door and tried to decipher noise that may be out of place. Under the sappy sound of her music, he could hear Brin rummaging in her room. He knocked another time, intrigued as to what she was up to.

"Come in," she spoke, finally granted him access.

On opening the door, Zane found a slightly disheveled and bouncing Brin. She was standing before her full length mirror and was looking at her reflection; there was nothing abnormal with that, he noted. What looked strange indeed was how she vigorously focused at pulling on the sleeves of her off-the-shoulder shirt. Her dress of the day was complete with baggy jeans, and no make-up. That too, in Zane's opinion, was baffling; not that his sister wasn't a natural beauty, but it wasn't her type to go out without at least half an inches of beauty products.

His critical eyes ran over her, noting that she was flush and winded; hadn't he knew better, he would have thought that she was just returning from running a marathon.

She turned facing him, and she ran her hands over her arms, shivering. He noticed that her eyes were brighter than usual and that her hair consisted of a tangle mess, as if she hadn't combed it for days. Zane felt restless as she fixed an intense gaze on him. He had to resist the sudden urge to go in and run a hand through her twisted locks; he shook the feeling away.

"Just a reminder," he began, casually lounging against the doorframe with his arms crossed, "the messy hair is my trademark."

"Ha! Funny!" She replied with sarcasm, trying to tame with more fervor the long dark locks with her fingers.

"Are you high?" he asked, his brows furrowed and his head slightly tilted to the side. It could explain her untidy appearance and weird behavior.

"No," retorted curtly.

Running his eyes over her slender body once again, he shrugged and he spoke: "Well, you're coming?"

"I think I'm running a fever," she stated facing him again. She was looking his way, but was avoiding his eyes.

"A fever?" Zane repeated, doubtfully. They couldn't be sick; well, they've never been hit with any sickness except for sporadic seizures, but that didn't mean they couldn't catch some disease, right? He walked the three strides separating them, intending to gauge up her corporal temperature. As he stood a foot away in front of her, his nostrils breathed in a lingering, unknown, and quite addictive scent in the air.

On an innate level, he knew it came from her. It had him paralyzed for a moment; a moment in which he couldn't remember why he was standing near her as his thoughts danced in his head. He closed his eyes for a few confusing seconds and calmed his raging nerves. Why was he so worked up all of a sudden? Taking upon himself and clearing his puzzling thoughts with a shake of the head, he returned to the matter at end and put the back of his hand upon Brin's forehead. "You're a little hot. Nothing alarming. You want mom to call in sick for you? "

It seemed to take ages for Brin to focus on his words; she had closed her eyes when he had touched her, her expression one of delight; albeit he didn't know if it was from the feeling of his cooler hand against her heated skin or from the touch itself. At last, she moved her head left and right, slowly fluttering her eyes opened. "I can't afford not going. I have a quiz this morning."

"If you feel up to it, hurry up. It's getting late."

***

"I wonder how such low I.Q. species succeed at living this long," Simon deadpanned, unimpressed.

Simon, Thomas and Zane were standing in the hallway, their arms crossed. Their backs were to the lockers and their straight-faced gazes were set on the cream of Timberline High School; meaning the members of the school's basketball team. The idiots were laughing quite loudly and dumbly at some lame ass joke one of them had supply.

"I think it's because they mingled together. You know the 'stick together 'coz unity is strength' shit_,_" said Tommy, "I can't believe your sister hooked up with captain of dumb squad. Anton's a major nutcase." They looked as the guy in question bounced on his feet, obviously trying to tell a funny story. His playmates laughed some more, unobvious to their spectators.

Zane shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? Brin can be a nutcase too," Zane said. The three of them chuckled lightly at the comment.

The bell rang and they turned their backs to the foolish lot. They faced their respective lockers, slamming them shut; lunch time was over, it was time to head back to class.

"Too bad we don't have gym class together. I could have help you two kicked those brainless' jocks to the bleachers." They exchanged smirks. "I've gotta jet, late," said Tommy, bumping fists with Simon and Zane.

"See you later, man," they replied in unison. They left in the general direction of the gym.

Some minutes after, Zane was walking out of the changing room, dressed in sport attire. Simon was still next to him as they were to attend the same gym class. On their way there, a guy that was in most of Zane's classes -and to whom he was civil with for the fact that he wasn't a complete loony like his fellow teammates- stopped him with a hand on his arm. Zane motioned for Simon to head at the gym; there was no need for the both of them to be late in class with Principal Putman breathing down their necks.

"Hey, Sanford," the guy said, somewhat tensely.

"How's it going, Fred?" he greeted back.

"I just heard a couple of the basket ball team guys talking about Anton. They were blabbing about him getting at it with a girl."

"With whom? Brin?"

"Yeah, your sister. She was acting kinda strange all morning. I heard that she had thrown herself at Anton after lunch break and the fool was too happy to comply. They left five minutes ago. I thought you should know."

At Fred's words, Zane remembered his sister's weird behavior that same morning and an awkward feeling crawled its way up to his spine. "Do you know where they left?" He pressed.

"A motel. I'm betting the one on Parkcenter Boulevard; it's the closest and they seemed to be in a hurry."

"Thanks, man. I own you big time," he said, turning on his heels and heading back to the changing room.

"No thanks, Sanford. I have a sister too," he heard Fred said behind him.

In the locker's room, he ripped open his metal case, forgetting to unlock it; the thing opened off its hinges, dangling to a smacking halt against the locker next door. He put on his jacket, and left the school at a jogging pace; the idea of tearing Anton's head from his shoulders was pretty tempting.

Around two and a half klicks later, Zane found himself in front of the shabby motel of Parkcenter Boulevard. He ran his eyes over the compound, assessing his surroundings. He easily spotted Anton's poor excuse of a car in the parking lot and walked straight to the room the beat up vehicle was parked in front of.

As he neared the door, a smelt assaulted his nostrils, flaming all of his senses on fire. He felt himself losing the tight grip he had on his sanity and surely, his mind spiraled downward into oblivion until all that was left was his accurately aware and raging instincts. And that scent; that obsessive, provocative and utterly arousing scent.

From his position in front of the entrance, Zane could hear lips kissing lips, hands running over clothes and shoes being kicked out. He trusted his foot into the door and it swung open on its hinges. His vision was assaulted by the image of two lovers in a tight embrace. Then, he saw nothing but red and felt nothing but a crazy frenzy boiling in his blood and beating in his eardrums.

The couple separated abruptly and Anton turned toward him, hiding Brin behind him; all Zane had time to see was a wicked grin she sent his way.

When Anton figured out who had barged in, he scowled at Zane, furious of the interruption. Fear didn't seem to have a place in his thick brain and it should have; never had Anton Fisher been as close of danger in his life. Who was he to fear a junior grader anyway?

Underestimation of the enemy was the teen's third tactical error –the first ones being bringing Brin in the seedy motel room and hiding her from his view. Anton's fourth –and almost fatal- mistake was to open up his big yapping mouth:

"Sanford? What the fuck are --" But Anton's words were put to an end by a fist. The Captain of the basketball team's head hit the floor hard. Zane eyed the unconscious body with nothing but distaste and hatred.

He was accurately aware of Brin's presence in the room. He lifted his eyes from Anton's lone and pitiful form and met an enticing vision. There she was; her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her chest pulsing with each short breath she took in. She was a dream. He couldn't help but start to make his way to her.

He sighed in frustration; the blurring strides he walked to reach her side taking an eternity. When he was close enough from her, Brin grabbed his arm and yanked on it; he found himself inches from her face. Hungry lips crashed on his before he could recover from his lost of balance, and before he knew it, he too was lost in the kiss and her taste. His hands roamed freely over her body, doing what she was aching for, begging for.

"Zane," his name rolled on her tongue half way between a purr and a moan. He never had heard anything as sexy as this before.

Zane's arms circled her waist and pulled her against him. He saw her pupils darken even more as she was pressed against his growing need for her. One of his hands slid up to cup a breast through the tin material of her shirt while the other slid down on her lower back.

Somewhere deep down in the fog of his head, he knew that he shouldn't be doing this, but the rational part of his brain seemed to have completely lost control. He felt that he was being overridden by his primal instincts.

_Mate_.

The thought was relentlessly roaring like a repeating disk through his head as he molded her flush against him.

_Mate_.

Zane sashayed one leg between hers, parting them, then yanked her flat against the wall, confining her within the prison of his body. Brin hit the wall hard but smirked at him nonetheless; his demonstration of dominance apparently arousing her to no end. She stood on tiptoes, her hands and breasts pressed to his hard chest. In the fog of his mind, he heard purring; he leered down at her, enjoying the noise of appreciation. Their dark, stormy eyes caught. She licked her lower lip.

_Mate__._

Lifting her in his hands as if she was weightless, Zane shoved her against him; she tied her legs around him in a crushing grip. With a quick jerk, he tore off half of her shirt. Then he roughly squeezed her breast through the material of her bright pink bra, massaging the nipple until it hardened; somehow knowing roughness was all she wanted. Brin's already flush cheeks reddened even more from desire; her head dropped backward in pleasure, it went banging loudly against the wall. Her nails dig into his scalp, into his neck, into his t-shirt and the smooth skin of his shoulder blades. He hissed, fisted a hand in her tousled black hair and angled her head to have better access to her neck.

When his tongue slid on hers, tangling their mutual tastes together, she purred again. As the now familiar sound joined the noise of his harsh breathing, Zane saw her squeezed her almond shape eyes shut. For a second, he halted all movement and just gazed at the half naked Brin clinging to him; she was so striking, so gorgeous. He waited for her to flutter her eyelids open, his whole body trembling in anticipation. When she did open them, both transgenics quieted down and stared at each other; witnessing and acknowledging the animalistic signification of their irrepressible gestures.

_Mine__. _

They kissed again, less hastily that time.

_Yours__. _

Zane was about to lay her down on the bed when he felt a hand tearing them apart. That time, he completely lost his balance and fell to the floor hard on his butt with Brin on top of him, still entangled with his limbs.

_Whoosh_.

With surprising softness, he swiftly pushed Brin aside and skillfully jump back up on his feet with a flip. Anton took a step back, looking momentarily impress by the action. Zane snarled in his face and started circling the oblivious boy with feline grace and feral gleams in the eyes. Not only was he completely wild by the interruption, but Anton's attempt to push him away from his soon-to-be mate sent Zane in a state of blinding rage. The cat in him wanted to rip the boy's guts open for daring to separate them. The teenager barely stood a chance. Zane had to refrained himself from grinning. Behind him, on the floor, he knew Brin was taken pleasure in the show.

"You're gonna spit blood for a week when I'll be finish with ya', Sanford!"

Anton tried to land a blow on him, but Zane bent, avoiding the impact. A few heartbeats later, he acted. One minute he was leering at Anton and the next he was halfway across the room, punching the older teenage boy in the throat with the flat of his hand, effectively cutting some air supply. Then, he smashed his tennis shoe into his opponent's chest. He heard a satisfying grunt of pain as well as the telltale sound of a broken rib; Anton's body bent with the sudden pain. After a pause in which the boy was left breathless, Anton straightened back up slowly, ready to strike.

Getting bored already with the game and without according much thought about his actions, Zane blurred to Anton and grasped his neck in an arm lock. Somewhere in the room, he heard Brin's cry of disapproval; but he was too angry, too far away from his sense of right and wrong to prevent the incident from happening. He put a little more strength to his chokehold motion and finally snapped the neck.

In a sharp crashing sound, Anton Fisher's lifeless corpse felt on the dirty motel rug.

**To be continued...**

A/N 3: You're wondering what will happen?! You're dying to know what Zane will do? You 'quote' WANT MORE ! 'unquote' For that, dear reader, you'll have to stay put and wait for next week's update. ^^

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	10. Don't Oiya About It

**The Whizz-Kid**

Disclaimer: Some bad words here and there.

AN: Guys, I'm SO sorry for not having post last week like I'd told I would; a mean –really mean- virus of flue got in the way and kept me in bed. Anyway, I read your reviews and I'm still ecstatic about them. Thank you for all the encouragements you're sending my way! Merry Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa or whatever you're into! Love you! ^^

**Chapter 9: Don't Oi-ya About It**

_(Or, schoolboys toying with shovels in a wasteland)_

**Boise, Idaho, USA **

**1503 hours, June 05, 2014.**

All of a sudden, his hazy mind cleared up and the consequences of his deeds came crashing down on him. Zane stood there, frozen, arm still outstretched; like a deer, watching its impending doom rush down a darkened highway at seventy-five miles per hour.

"O my god," said Brin, her craving of Zane the least of her concern at the instant; the events having the effect of a cold shower on her. She advanced in the room and kneeled down beside Anton. "Is he…" her voice trailed off as she checked for a non-existent pulse. "O my god," she repeated, in shock. Her eyes lifted up to stare at Zane's blank look.

_Shit._

All he could hear was his own pounding heart and hard breathing. Zane looked as Brin felt for a pulse and saw her lips moving but he did not hear the words she pronounced. "Jesus," he spoke as he started pacing in the room like a caged animal. What had he done?

_Shit. Shit. Shit_.

He saw Brin running to the door and slamming it shut; it didn't close completely as Zane had kicked it open when he had made his big entrance minutes ago. She then ran to the beat-up television, turned the thing on and tuned up the volume. Then, she turned back toward him, looking calm; it was the world in reverse, she usually was the emotional and he the composed one of the two. "Calm down, Zane. Zani!" she shouted lowly, trying to get his attention.

He was too concentrated with cursing and analyzing the situation to pay attention to her; his thoughts were running a mile a second, his brain was on overdrive. "Shit! Fuck!" He swore under his breath, all the while his grey eyes scanning the odd angle of Anton's neck.

"Zane!" Brin stopped his pacing by grabbing his forearms. That was a bad idea as he remembered how hot her body was; she was burning up. His gaze felt upon her lips; they were swelled and ruby red because of their kisses. And then, with a simple heated touch from her, the body on the floor became the least of his worry, his distress evaporating straight away.

His eyes caught Brin's and he saw her pupils flaring up under his penetrating gaze. He roamed his hands over her arms and he felt goosebumps awaken on her skin. His head bent again on its own volition and his lips found hers to battle in a new passionate duel. They stumbled in the room; moving as if they were performing a frantic and erratic dancing choreography. They moved blindly, two bodies seeming as only one. Brin attacked his neck; his jacket got discarded somewhere in the room as well as one of Brin's high heels shoes.

His lower back hit the dresser; he grunted. His elbow hit an ashtray; it went falling downward. His foot hit Anton lifeless body; and the fog of passion disappeared. He suddenly remembered the corpse on the floor and the upcoming problems that needed to be taken care of.

Zane pushed Brin away from him and she staggered ungracefully on the bed, breathing hard. He turned his back to her, clasping his hands in two tight fists. "Leave," his desire-filled voice roared. "Go away, now," he added, desperately trying not to look her way. He inhaled deeply and he immediately regretted doing so as his nostrils were invaded by her sweet aroma. He decided to stop breathing for the time being.

Zane heard a soft whimper and the springs of the mattress protesting as she stood up from the position. She roamed around the room, taking up pieces of clothe from the floor; she was covering herself with Anton's discarded jacket. At that moment, his anger built up anew; he couldn't stand the smelt of him on her. For Christ sake, he had just murdered the guy. Couldn't he give him some slack already? He soon shook the violent feeling away.

Zane tightened his jaw, standing his ground, unmoving. Brin finally left the room. He waited until he was sure she was far away; he waited five minutes. Then, he waited another two, just to be sure. Slowly snapping out of his torpor, he turned and left the room like he had the devil himself on his heels. Outside, he bent over his knees, winded and craving some much-needed air. He rose back to a standing position; his shoulders rigid, his eyes shut, his fists tighten and white, his chest panting, his heart pumping a mile a minute, his giddy mind one of a mad man. He paced around, stopped; letting his crazy stare dart inside the motel room to the body on the floor.

With a shaking hand, he finally grabbed the doorknob and closed the door; attiring attention to the fact that a teenager was lying lifeless on the rug was the opposite of what he needed.

Then, running out of the motel parking lot, he headed straight for the phone booth at the other side of the street. He punched in a number he had made sure of memorizing and waited until it was transferred to a voicemail service.

"Zack's mailbox. Speak if you have an emergency."

"Zack, I hope you're still in town. I'm at the motel at the angle of…." His eyes roamed wildly over the street corner, searching the street sign, all the while trying to remember where he was. "… Parkcenter Boulevard and Mallard Drive. I—Screwed up. I killed a guy. And Brin she was-freaking crazy. Come here. Fast." Then after giving it some thoughts, he added frantically: "Please."

Zane hanged up, gulped loudly and wiped his mouth with his hand. He went to the sidewalk and sat down; using every ounce of willpower he had from standing up and going after his sister.

Somewhere in his hazy mind, Zane knew that he was in a state of shock. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had just killed a man, or that he almost had crazy monkey sex with his sister, or maybe it was that, for the first time in years, he had felt the beast in him; the one yearning for blood and violence. The one thing he feared more than anything; more than Manticore.

He saw his hands starting to shake. Was it a seizure? It didn't felt like one; he hadn't had any in years. He breathed deeply; he needed to calm down, he needed to get a grip. His throat felt like sandpaper; each gasp was getting harder to get in.

"Calm down, damn it!" he shouted at himself as he sat still on the sidewalk, soaked to the bones.

Sometime during the whole commotion, it had started to rain. He was grateful of it; the scent of Brin on him was rapidly fading away. He was even grateful for his clinging clothes and hair; he wanted to be clean of all the evidences of his slaughter. He shivered slightly from the cold.

/

A car passed by and sent splashing water his way. His head shot up, astonished as the dirty water hit him. He stood up and was even more surprise when a hand gripped his shoulder. He bolted around, ready to strike.

It was Zack.

"Zack!" He grabbed his brother's arm and tugged on it. Strangely, it was him that was put to Zack's side and not the other way around.

"What happened?" Zack asked, putting both hands on his arms to steady him. He was wearing a hood-jacket that was protecting him from the rain and the wind. That reminded Zane of his inadequate apparel; he was still dressed in a tee and sports shorts. A pair of drenched tennis shoes completed the outfit; he could feel his wet socks through the material. He didn't put any more thoughts about it as he focused on Zack's question.

"Something was off with Brin," he began. "She came here with Anton, a guy from school, her boyfriend. And I knew something was wrong so I came here too and he was all over her and I," he gulped, searching Zack's gaze, fixing him back, "just couldn't control myself."

"What happened?" Zack repeated, pressing the topic.

"I pushed him away and I was all over her; I wanted to jump every one of her bones. I never wanted to do that with her before. It was like I couldn't control my body. We were kissing, groping and then Anton grabbed me and I completely blacked out. I was blood thirsty, crazy, even. And then I realized that he was lying at my feet, very much dead. I killed him."

Zane searched Zack's face for any sign of disappointment; there was none. "Where's Brin?" he asked, instead.

Zane glanced around as if he was looking for her but shrugged. "I told her to leave. I don't know where she went."

"It's ok. She can take care of herself. Having one of us around her would cause more problems, for now."

"What? Why?" Zane exclaimed.

"The thing that was off about Brin," Zack asked Zane, the youngest nodded, acknowledging that he was listening, "is called heat."

"Heat," Zane repeated the word. The more he let it rolled on his tongue, the more he let it ran in his mind, the more he felt out of the loop.

"Yes, heat. It's a biological estrous cycle. Basically, it's a period of increased sexual drive in which the female is more fer-"

"I fucking know what heat means." he said, agitated. "What I don't get is why I reacted that way to Brin's… heat."

"She dropped an amount of pheromones and that triggered a natural behavioral response from anyone male."

Zane sat down to digest all the words, and came to the sudden realization that Brin may be alone with some stranger. "Fuck," he shot back up, "I told her to leave. How stupid can I be?"

"Sit down."

Zane complied immediately. Afterwards, he would laugh about the face Zack shot him when he listened to him that blindly. After all, he was a typical teenager that questioned every order; their previous brief encounter had proven that fact. He could see how that could surprise his big brother. But now was not the time for laughing.

"Do you need tryptophan?" Zack asked after a short, uncomfortable silence.

Zane glanced up at him, a puzzled expression showing on his face: "What?"

"Tryptophan; it helps with the seizures. Remind me to give you some after all this," he nodded his chin in the direction of the motel.

"I don't have seizures," said Zane, frowning at the idea.

"You're shaking," stated his brother.

Zane examined his hands for a second; they were trembling, but not from seizures. Was he having hypothermia? He was freezing to the bones and he could feel his teeth starting to shatter against his cold lips. Or was it that he was in shock? He somehow convinced himself that hypothermia was better than having seizures. Even being in a serious state of shock was better than having seizures. "I don't have seizures," he repeated with conviction.

Zack sat next to him, apparently judging if it was better to let his little brother go home or to keep him in sight while taking care of the matter at hand. He made his decision: "I have to take care of the body," he commented, "I want you to go home, take a shower and put dry clothes on."

Zane's eyes shot out and went to the motel room's closed door. "No, I want to help you."

"You're sure about that?" Zack asked, perplexed. His lil' bro seemed to be in a second state of mind, maybe it would be better for him to sleep the stress away, but somehow Zack seemed to know that Zane wouldn't succeed at closing an eye until Brin's return.

"It's my mess," Zane said, standing up again. He started walking across the street; Zack next to him. "Is it better to make him disappear or to fake a suicide?"

Zack seemed to ponder his words. "Disappearance. He's a teenager; there are a lot of runaways these days."

They stopped walking, standing in front of the door. Inside the room, they could hear the television set on a music channel blasting some heavy metal song. Zane turned to Zack: "There's a wasteland one block away," he said.

"I'll take care of the body. Go find a shovel and dig a pit," ordered Zack.

/

Zane found out that shoveling in the middle of a wasteland under heavy pouring rain had its advantages; mud was much easier to manipulate than dry earth ever was. Sure, it had its drawbacks too; he was covered with dirt from head to toes and he was going to have a hard time hiding his footsteps. However, he put that problem to the back of his mind as it was better to see the good points in the bad situation he was in.

Sometime during his search of a shovel, he took the time to calm down and go at the train station to gather dry clothes from his and Brin's hidden stash. Now more than ever, he was happy with Brin's brains and her thinking ahead of time. Years ago, she had packed and put in storage several survival kits across town in case they had to leave in a hurry. Each hiding place concealed two bags. In one bag you could find a first aid kit, scissors, matches, various accessories such as sunglasses, caps and other useful cover-up articles like dye and finally two loaded 9mm. The second bag was holding four sets of clothes that had been meticulously chosen for both their ordinariness and their convenience regarding different types of weather conditions.

Zane had grabbed both bags. He had gone to the train station with the hope of finding Brin safe and sound waiting for him, but lady luck seemed to have forgotten about him recently. In the pit of his stomach, it had relieved him a little that she hadn't been there; it wasn't quite the time to jump all of her bones. They had a dead body on the fire and a cover story to make up. Fortunately for him, doing handiwork was giving him the ability to clear his thoughts and imagining some plausible tale regarding Anton's run off.

Deep down, Zane knew that the cover story he was trying to build up wasn't that much necessary; his sixth sense was telling him that Zack wouldn't bother to create anything to mask up the mess they were in. Zack was going to delocalize them; half the school had seen Brin leaving with Anton and staying under the radar with Anton's distressed parents and a police search party breathing down their necks would be too much of a risk. Yes, Zack was going to move them; Brin's and his life depended on it.

He wondered where Zack would establish them. Had they a choice in the matter? He hoped so; he really wanted to live near the ocean.

As Zane finished with digging the soon-to-be grave, he planted the shovel in the ground. He brushed a backhand over his forehead and got it covered with a mix of mud and sweat in the process. He exhaled and a cloud of fog escaped his lungs and mouth. He raised his gaze to the sky; the night was about to fall any minute; Zack would need his help to move what was left of Anton Fisher.

**To be continued**


	11. The ‘What Goes Up Must Come Down’ Effect

**The Whizz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

A/N: Hi people! It's been such a long time; I know, I know. And I'm thoroughly sorry for that. I still got some health problems. Went through some operation, got some splitting pain in the torso too. But hey! I got plenty of codeine in my system and plenty of time now that I'm in break of work for another month! And even through all that, I didn't forget about you in the end… I'm rambling, and I'm stopping now. Up to the next chapter. Hope you like it!

**Chapter 10: The '**_**What Goes Up Must Come Down**_**' Effect**

_(Or, the tears on your pillow will dry)_

**Nampa, Idaho, USA **

**2203 hours, June 07, 2014.**

Two days.

It has been exactly two days and seven hours since he'd told Brin to leave the dirty motel room with her boyfriend's cooling dead body sprawled on the rug; two days and seven frigging hours of hell for him.

Zane was a nervous-wrack; he was pacing the room restlessly feeling rather like a hungry lion trapped in its cage.

After burying Anton's body, both teen boys had driven to the town next door, renting a motel room for the upcoming four days. The only consolation for Zane at being in another motel room was that it looked a tad bit cleaner than the last one they'd quit; that and the fact that there was no dead body sleeping around.

His gaze went back on the television national news report, trying to focus his attention on anything but the waiting and his increasing uneasiness at being trapped in the small room with a more or less mute brother.

A cute blond reporter was speaking: "The brand new and illegal society S1W has strike again last night by throwing Molotov cocktails in a commercial district of Seattle, setting the quiet suburb on flames. The following images were taken by a passing hover drone when the crime was committed. If you recognized some of the rebels, please call the number below. Authorities are clear: the S1W is considered a dangerous terrorist organization that..."

He turned off the TV and resumed his pacing; he couldn't help it. He hadn't been able to sit still in the past two days. He just couldn't; he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and couldn't do anything but fidget knowing that she was out there somewhere, lost, alone or even worse. No. He didn't allow himself to think about the "or worse" part. No; Brin was going to be fine. She was a fighter, a survivor.

He shot a glance toward his brother. Zack was sitting calmly at the table by the window, cleaning his 9mm neatly and assessing the parking lot bellow from time to time. Zane was certain by now that his brother had memorized every parked car, passing vehicle and every license plaques. How could he be so compose? He too was waiting for his sister to check in. Zane felt like hitting the guy for his self-control.

Zane sighed and sat down in front of Zack, his fingers tapping on the surface of the table and his legs shaking from nervousness like crazy. "I wouldn't mind some kick ass booze, right now," he said, breaking the silence filled room, trying to diffuse the eeriness he was feeling by cracking some lame jokes.

Zack's attention didn't divert from his cleaning task. "Drugs aren't the solution," he replied stoically.

"Like you'd know," mumbled Zane under his breathing. If his brother heard a word of his last comment, he didn't let it show. Zane kept silent and occupied his troubled, yet quite bored mind by engraving the hard wood of the table with his Swiss knife. "How much time until she calls?" He asked after blowing over his handiwork to see the final results: '_Zane was here'_. He half grinned at his chef d'oeuvre.

"Shouldn't be long," replied his brother. "She'll contact us in a few hours, a day at max."

"A day?" Zane was back up in a flash.

"Calm down, will you?" said Zack with a bit of annoyance in his voice and a roll of his eyes. That was pretty much all the emotion Zane had get from him since their predicament.

The youngest of the brothers decided to stop fidgeting for his brother's sake and headed to the bathroom gathering a glass of water. He didn't understand how Zack could be as distant and cool with the situation. Maybe he had experienced it many times in the past; he did seem pretty familiar with the concept of heat. He spoke up, so his brother would hear him: "It happened to which one of the girls before Brin?"

Zane was fixing the blond boy thought the mirror of the bathroom. Zack seemed lost in thoughts for an instant; it took him some seconds before replying.

"Jondy, Vada," he said slowly. Then he added in a distant voice: "and Tinga." He stood up brusquely: "I'll go get something to eat." And as quickly as he had voiced the idea, he had pocked his newly-put-back-in-one-piece 9mm and was outside, closing the door behind him.

Zane had a feeling that Zack had been around when heat had hit Tinga. It was weird imagining them together, but by now, he understood that even Zack couldn't have possibly been able to control his instincts, having been himself in the same position. Who knows what could have happened between Brin and him if a dead teenager hadn't been included in the scenario?

He bent and splashed his face with cold water. When he stood back up, his gaze met his reflection in the mirror. He took notice of his general appearance; he looked disheveled and tired; he had to thank his recent insomnia for the dark circles forming under his eyes. His hair was, like always, a mess of light brown curls; he would have to ask Brin to cut them sometime in the near future; he _hated_ curls.

Zane shook his thoughts away when he was disturbed by a ringing. He toweled his dripping face rapidly and went to the main room, spotting the source of the noise; the phone. He grabbed it and answered briefly. "Yeah?"

"Zane," it was his brother, "Brin just called the emergency line. I'll go get her. We'll be back in about half an hour."

By the time Zack hung up, Zane felt all the tension he'd been feeling during the last few days fade away leaving exhaustion behind in its departure. He let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding and lay down on the bed, his eyes staring at a spot at the ceiling.

/

**Nampa, Idaho, USA **

**0202 hours, June 08, 2014.**

He was on his feet the second he heard the metallic sounds of car doors opening and closing. He looked down the window, praying for a god up there to end his torment and make it be Brin and Zack; it was them. They were making their way across the parking lot and were heading toward the stairs to his floor. Brin was looking as tiny as ever and was hugging herself. He felt his heart tugging for her; all he wanted was soothing her.

Zane ran out of the room and crossed the balcony in a flash, barely preventing himself from blurring. He took the stairs two at a time and reached his sister at the bottom. He hugged her.

"Brin," he managed to whisper hoarsely as he cupped her cheeks and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was messy and full of knots between his fingers. She hugged him back, crushing his form to hers and preventing him to breathe for some time; he didn't mind, he could bear not breathing for more than five minutes anyway.

He trapped her head under his chin as she started sobbing against him. "Shhh. It's ok. You're with me now. It's going to be alright," he comforted her with nonsense words. She nodded frantically against him. What happened to her? His distress eyes met Zack's over Brin's petite form seeking answers. But Zack, not one for public display of affections, only response was to order them back to their room with a sharp tilt of the chin.

Zane bent down and took Brin in his arms; she helped him blindly by warping her arms around his neck, and hiding her face deeper in his chest. Soon enough, they were back in the confines of the motel room, only this time, it wasn't a prison for him anymore.

He didn't go to sleep straight away. He could feel the rise and fall of Brin's stomach under his hand and he just wanted to savor the feeling sleeping beside her always gave him. He knew what it was. He couldn't put a name to it but he remembered it from when he was a kid; it was a combination of comfort, warmth and contentment. When he'd been young he'd got that feeling from his unit. After the escape, he'd found that type of comfort with Brin. Sometimes, they would share the same bed and it would be his best sleeping night in months. But once they got older, he'd stopped sneaking in Brin's room and she'd ended their midnight rendezvous; he felt that he was too old for that sort of reassurance. Now that he had her in his arms, he had to ponder on how he could have given up the feeling of another warm body against his. In fact, he couldn't even remember feeling as mellow and relaxed since what seemed like forever.

Adjusting himself around Brin, Zane closed his eyes and unconsciously nuzzled her neck filling his nose with the scent on her skin. It was a combination of his own distinctive scent, soap, mango shampoo and the smell that was purely Brin; all so pleasingly familiar to him. He was happy he couldn't smelt tears anymore.

Crying was all she seemed to be able to do once they've entered the motel room. She didn't want to let go of him when he mentioned that he would run her a bath for her, but she had eventually agree when he'd mentioned he'll stay by her side. She had calmed down a little once she was drown by the hot water; he sat by the side of the tub, his back to her. He didn't dare to speak or ask questions. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind at all as she kept silent herself.

Tears had spiked her eyelashes and had traced her cheekbones again when Zack -with his tactful and immensely diplomatic persona (note the sarcasm) – had handed Brin a morning after pill without so much as sweet comfort words to soothe his little sister. Ok, so the guy had quickly caressed Brin's damp hair when she had swallowed the pill, but he got to admit it wasn't that convincing even from his observation spot near the duo. 'Thank you' she had said afterward to Zack, trying to put on a strong façade. But Zane knew better than falling for it.

Finally, he was sure that she would cry again in the morning, when Zack would order them to leave town.

As Zane lay with her head in the crook of his shoulder, he couldn't help but see all sorts of sordid events that may have happened to her in the last two days. He could imagine every gory detail and he couldn't wait to be alone with her so he could finally talk to her; then he would be able to tame those uncontrolled thoughts.

Images of Brin weren't the only ones assaulting his mind that night. Anton's neck- the peculiar angle of it- and his blank stare fixing the ceiling were also major features in his mind. He'd been prepared all of his childhood for similar scenarios and deadly settings; was familiar with thousands of them actually. Yet, he couldn't stop thinking about those unmoving eyes staring indifferently at the ceiling; never had the lessons mentioned anything akin to disturbingly and haunting dull eyes.

Finally, Zane nuzzled Brin's tresses and surrendered to sleep.

/

**Boise, Idaho, USA **

**1000 hours, June 08, 2014.**

"Guys, it's time," Zack called for them, his voice sounding impatient.

Zane's gaze met his brother's form against the doorway and he felt a strange sentiment of helplessness. _'It's time; time to leave, time to go, time to let go.'_

Brin broke her embrace with Susan when she heard Zack. Both women smiled fondly at one another.

Zane looked back to the woman he considered his mother one last time before getting up. He didn't say anything; he couldn't because the lump in his throat was too tight. There was still too much questions in her eyes and it hurt. He knew she wanted to know that she did wrong, why they had to leave her, but it would be easier if she didn't know too much. Well safer, anyway.

But damn what was safe and what wasn't. Damn Zack.

He stood up, pulled his mother into a crushing hug and kissed one watery cheek. "Goodbye, my little boy," she whispered in his ears. He couldn't remember how many times he had told her he wasn't a little boy anymore. Right now, he didn't care. He would be her little boy forever if it meant staying here; but he'd never been a hopeful type of person.

All Zane could hope for in fact was for Zack not to have seen him slip Susan the folded piece of paper he'd scribed on when he'd gone upstairs to pack his bag.

'_Susan,_

_Sorry for all the troubles we've been for you over the years. I know that you suspect there was something strange about our past and we're both grateful that you didn't ask questions about it, even though you've never been one that likes to be kept in the dark. Thank you for all your love and your care. We both love you like a real mother. _

_Please, don't call the cops. Don't try to find us. _

_PS: I'll take care of her._

_Love, Z.'_

He finally let go of Susan, giving her one last smile and he strode away, bumping pointedly into Zack's shoulder on his way out.

Upon entering Zack's black jeep, Zane stopped and turned toward the house. He put one arm around Brin's shoulders and brought her slight form to him. Together, they faced what they had considered their home for so many years. He would miss the smell of bread upon waking up. He would miss the cracking of the floor under his weight and the soft ticking of the living room grandfather clock. He looked sadly over the brick wall and the neat front yard.

'_Zane was here.'_

Though, that time, he only thought the words; Zack couldn't go as far as erasing his mind like he'd done with that engraved coffee table in the motel room.

He finally glanced down at Brin; she had tears in the eyes but a sad smile was brightening her soft features. He let go of the breath he was holding because she wasn't as broken as he first thought; she could still smile and that meant something, right? Somehow, he knew they'll be okay in the end. And he was glad that breathing was back to being an unconscious effort to him.

**To be continued**


	12. My Day Was Fine

**The Whiz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, summary, etc.

**Rating:** Mature scene & some language.

**AN:** Hey guys! Hope you feel up to a new chapter! Just wanted to say quickly; I've written two little vignettes about this story. If you feel up to reading them they are called 'Visiting the Whiz-Kid' and 'When the Whiz-Kid gets older'. They're still about Zane but he's slightly older in them. You may find some hints about what will happen in 'The Whiz-Kid' but nothing too revealing.

**Review of previous chapter: **Zack and Zane went to a motel room waiting for Brin's call. Then she called and returned safely to an extremely relieved Zane. Zane pondered the fact that he killed in cold blood. Finally, they have to say goodbyes to Susan, their foster mother.

**Chapter 11: My day was fine**

_(Or,f-ed up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional, F.I.N.E.)_

**Sacramento, California, USA **

**0545 hours, June 09, 2014.**

They've been driving for nine hours straight. At first, all occupants of the car were silent; Brin because she was sad, Zack because it was his life motto and Zane because he was irritated with the whole situation.

He'd set his mood in one of mute anger; anger toward Zack, anger toward the circumstances, anger toward life in general. He was a teenager and that was enough of an excuse for his foul mood; so why not?

They'd stayed quiet until they reached their first pit stop. Then Brin spoke up, saying something about using the restroom, leaving him with Zack.

He'd followed Zack outside the car and watched as his brother filled the gas tank. There wasn't much to be said; he was angry with him and Zack was indifferent to his anger. And really, Zane knew better than to lash out at his older sibling; it wasn't like his anger was totally Zack's fault. Sure he didn't like having to move out of town, didn't like that he was leaving his family and friends behind; but he understood why Zack was forcing them to move. He didn't like it but he understood why. They had put themselves in a risky situation and all of them knew better than to stay and try to amend things. So they had to run away.

"Where are we going," he asked, his voice sounding hoarse after hours of keeping quiet; and it suddenly clicked in his head why Zack's words seemed always so gruff; it was from staying silent for extended periods of time.

"Sacramento," his brother replied briefly.

Sacramento; sacrament: the visible sign of an invisible reality. He snorted; yeah, right. Who the hell baptized a city Sacramento anyway? Nuns?

"When will we get there?"

"ETA is six hours and fifty five minutes."

"You could have simply said seven hours, you know," he deadpanned. Really, he thought with exasperation, Zack was one major brainwashed nutcase. He straightened from his lounging position over the car door and headed toward the convenient store to fetch some goods for the remaining hours of the trip.

A few hours later, they pulled up in an empty entryway. The place wasn't looking that bad. The building had an air of Spanish design and the palm trees surrounding the streets were quite a sight to someone who'd never seen real palm trees before. Still, Zane noted, the sun was near impossible to see between the smog clouds of Northern California.

"This is your new place," said Zack out aloud as he stopped the engine.

The three of them got out of the jeep and stretched their awakening limbs. Brin and her ever optimistic self –fully recovered from her previous state of sadness, it appeared- grinned at them and spoke with enthusiasm: "It looks nice! Let's see inside."

Reluctantly, Zane strolled behind them as they started climbing a set of stairs, his bag slumped over his shoulder and Brin's duffel bags firmly settled in a hand. Once the door was unlocked and opened, Zane took a few tentative steps into the place, looking around the main room. It held the necessities, he noticed.

Brin was already looking into the hallway and the hidden rooms as he bent to drop his charges on the floor. "Cool! There's a bath _and_ a shower!" he heard her exclaimed from somewhere in the back of the apartment.

'_That doesn't mean there is hot water_,' he thought dryly as he walked to the kitchen sink and tested the tap water. Waiting a few seconds under Zack watchful eyes, he snorted on purpose. "That's what I thought," he muted out loud.

"This room's mine," squealed Brin again.

He turned off the tap and moved over to a kitchen cupboard. He opened it; the hinges squeaked with the motion. He tried it again and got the same creaking noise as a result.

Suddenly, the petite raven hair girl appeared in the room: "Zane, you should see the size of my dressing-room!"

Zane threw her an annoyed look. Why was she acting so peppy?

Somewhere outside, the staccato sounds of bullets and of a car alarm broke the silence. They stayed unmoving for a few seconds. Then Zane spoke up: "Fire shots and car alarms; Jesus, you're shitting me, right?"

That seemed to finally get Brin to drop the cheery act she had going on; she made an abrupt slashing motion to silence him. Then, she put a hand on her hip and scowled at him. "Zane, be polite!" Brin snapped.

Neither understanding why he was so irritated with them and why he disliked the place so much, he slammed the cupboard shut and took satisfaction as his siblings started a little at the sudden clatter. His furious glare moved from Brin to Zack. "This is a rat nest, Zack. Mind you; this place will do wonders to my new drug dealing career."

Brin was in his face the millisecond following his comment, hitting his shoulder angrily. She was livid. "Yeah; the neighborhood doesn't seem like the safest place to walk at night. So what? We'll manage just fine, Zane," she hissed.

Zane glared at her.

It was Zack's words that broke their staring contest. "Listen, Zane. I know it's hard to start over someplace else but you have to understand that staying back there was too much of a liability for you."

"Oooh boy, do I have a journal entry for tonight! Have you heard Brin? Zack's using more than five words in a row!"

"Alright, be like that," Zack started harshly. "I'll come back in a few days to see how you two are doing. For the time being, take that."

Zack handed Brin two large bundles of money. She took it, robot like, biting her lower lip in the process; Zane could tell she was still fuming. Zack left. Outside, they heard the slamming of a car door and the revving of the Jeep.

Brin's accusatory eyes swung to his: "Would it have killed you to act like you liked it in here?"

"I didn't know I had to act all chipper like you. You should have sent me the memo."

Zane barely dodged the first bundle of money she hurled at his face and he reached his hand up just in time to grab the second one. He watched as she strode out of the room and slammed a door. He went outside.

/

**Sacramento, California, USA **

**1645 hours, June 09, 2014.**

Zane let himself into the apartment and stopped short. The light in the kitchen was on and he was briefly surprised that it was working at all. Brin was expertly dicing mushrooms under the overcast glow; she must have gone grocery shopping when he was away.

He walked to the table chair and sat down on it. As she looked up at him, her hands kept working with the sharp looking knife. She'd always been good with those. And she'd always been skilled at making him feel uneasy whenever he was in close proximity with said chopping blade. Brin smiled. She smiled in a way that, even though Zane loved and felt completely at ease with her, still made him feel edgy. _'Damn that knife_,' he thought.

"Where were you?" She demanded simply, her voice steady.

He slide two sheets of paper on the table top: "We need sector passes here," he all but explained.

Brin dropped the knife and brushed her hands against her jeans clad thighs as she made her way to him. She took the papers and studied them in details: "Kathryn Ford", she read, "and I'm just turned eighteen years old." She looked up at him: "And you are Shane Ford, seventeen. Really, Zane, you don't look anywhere near seventeen. You need a minimum of hair to the chest and chin for that to happen."

Zane frowned and straightened on his chair, immediately falling in a defence mode: "I do have hair to the chin."

"If you say so," Brin replied with a slight grin and he realized that she had been trying to aggravate him; she was, in her own usual way, trying to make things ok again between them. He had to say that he really liked that method of peace offering; he didn't have to say he was sorry and he didn't get to hear it neither. It was easy.

With a quick uncomfortable quirk of his own lips he turned and headed for the kitchen counter. He grabbed a piece of carrot and chewed it seconds later. "I'll buy some paint tomorrow," he simply said, still munching on the vegetable and facing her. '_And oil for those pesky cupboard hinges_' he mentally added.

He wanted to paint that hideous place from top to toe. After some tense negotiations with the land keeper –he'd met the man on his way downstairs- the guy had agreed to let them paint the damn place. The deal was to make the place acceptable for the next tenant at the condition that the rental stayed of the same amount for the next couple of years. It was nice of him.

"Tomorrow, I'll sign us up in our new school," Brin said.

"It sucks to change school two weeks before the end of class."

"Well, Shane Ford, age seventeen, what really sucks is that you'll have to pass junior year final exams. I hope you're up to it."

"Please. You know me. My middle name is genius," he grinned boyishly at her, trying to lighten up Brin's sour mood. His attempt was futile as she shot him an astonish glance then settled for some venom-induced word.

"That didn't prevent you from acting like a pig today," she deadpanned with sarcasm. Ok, maybe she hadn't forgiven him as quickly as he'd hope she would. But to his credit, nobody ever said that genius couldn't be pigs.

He sighed.

"Hey," Zane started as he walked back to the table and put a hand on Brin shoulder; she looked up at his serious expression, hers was blank. "I'm sorry for acting like a jerk." He gave her a coy grin; that finally succeeded at bringing a small half smile to her lips. She squeezed his bicep and went back toward her cooking.

And again, he sighed but this time it was a relieve sigh; because everything was alright between them again.

Zane's sleep wasn't at all restful that night; he kept tossing around and tangling his limbs with the sheets. His unconscious thoughts weren't all that peaceful either; Anton's murder was still fresh in his mind as well as his and Brin's near mishap.

/

**Sacramento, California, USA **

**0234 hours, June 10, 2014.**

_'__All he could do was to stare helplessly at the dead eyes as a hot mouth nipped fervently at his neck._

_"__He's dead," he mumbled against the attacking lips as they met his. _

_Suddenly, all love-making movements stopped and his head was cradled gently between tender hands. His vision of Anton's corpse was ripped away from his sight as it land on a caring Brin; cheeks flushed, dark locks twisted, almond eyes black with desire and lips panting deliciously. How she could look concerned and caring with such longing in her eyes was beyond him._

_He focused on her red lips as she caressed the short curls of his hair. _

_"__Shhh… It doesn't matter. I'm all yours now," she whispered lovingly. _

_He nodded, wanting to believe her, and didn't really resist when she stood on tiptoes and kissed the corner of his lips sweetly but surely; he stood still, his gaze lingering over her closed, thick, eyelids. _

_Lips met lips again and he began to respond, slowly at first, but with an ever-increasing need. Her hands covered his shoulders, ran over the lines of his collarbones and down his arms, around his wrists to the flanks of his hips, raising goose bumps in their journey._

_He slid his hands up the sides of her ribs as his tongue pushed into her mouth. The span of her torso fit easily within his hands; his fingertips could easily graze her shoulder blades while his thumbs edged the sides of her breasts. She was so tiny; and she was his to protect and love._

_He fumbled blindly with the hem of her top and she eagerly helped him taking the material off. He stared lustfully at her red silky bra partly covered by wild, long, dark locks. She was the most amazing sight he'd ever seen; dark hair and pale skin clashing with vibrant red lips. Natural. Beautiful. Stunning. _

_His Brin. _

_After some time, his shirt bunched up around his armpits and he raised his arms, letting her lift it off him. Zane groaned at the feel of her fingertips running down his arms, from his wrists to his armpits, fleeting over a particular ticklish spots and digging again into his chest. _

_Unexpectedly, the back of his knees met the soft fabric of a mattress as Brin had him corner between her pulsing body and the bed. He plopped down on it and she followed his lead; her fingers fumbling with his buckle. She was getting more avid and he didn't mind one bit as he tugged her skirt down her wriggling body. _

_Brin's shaking, rough, urgent hands tangled in his hair as she let her head fall backward; opened up her throat to him. He rolled them over so he was on top of her and began to explore the expanse of her skin; her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and finally, her breasts. He could feel the tension in her legs as they gripped at his hips, bucking and rocking slightly against him. _

_His back arched and he could feel his shoulders blades stretching and separating, pulling at the muscles as he dipped his neck down, closed his mouth over the heated skin of her chest, tongued at the salty flesh of her upper breasts, and his hands fell down to the outsides of her thighs. _

_Zane flicked his tongue at a pink aureole and she moaned loudly. She was so responsive; all throaty sounds, trembling and rippling muscles and he liked it madly. Her nipples gorged into his mouth, sat heavy on his tongue and her hips thrust up and met his hardened manhood, toying with him. _

_He looked at her, wanting desperately to witness every panting and gritting of her teeth but all he found was a malicious smirk; she was clearly enjoying the reaction she was having on him. To punish her, he bit on one hardened nipple and she hissed. He grinned against the sensible skin but the smile soon dissipated as she slapped the side of his head in disapproval. _

_Again, he looked up at her, a frustrated expression marring his features; hers was a mixture between anger and defy. Coyly, he bent and sucked gently on the bruised nipple, a quiet apology to his harsh ministrations. She seemed to accept it as she tugged on his shoulders to bring him up to eyes level. Then, it was her turn to roll them over; and she was over him, her hands flatted over his chest. _

_She bent to lick his ear and he sucked in air helplessly. He felt her smile against his skin, enjoying herself. He was mesmerized by her as she made her way down over him. She was all sexiness and passion. _

_Boy, he did he loved her like that._

_Zane started and disturbed from Brin's sweet torture to his body as a calloused hand gripped his forearm harshly; he gazed to his left and met Anton's accusatory eyes. _

_"__Don't touch her!"_

_"__She's mine," Zane defended himself against the dead teenager's angry stare. _

_Anton's broken neck shook hard and the angle of it seemed almost right again for a few seconds: "She never was yours. She's your sister, you fucker!" _

_Brin sat up on his lap and bit her lower lip in thought. _

_"__I guess he's right, Zani." '_

_/_

Zane woke up; his respiration labored and his eyes as wide as saucers. He'd never been the religious type of guy for many reasons; the main one being that he'd been created in a military lab. But at that moment, all of his beliefs –or non-beliefs- went overboard as he came up with an eyes-opening realization:

"Holy shit," he exclaimed, in utter apprehension. "I have the hots for Brin."

He gripped his pillow tightly and brought the fluffy thing over his face as he tried to forget his painful hard on.

"Please. Kill me now."

/

**Sacramento, California, USA **

**1016 hours, June 10, 2014.**

The following day, Brin had left early to sign them up in their future school while Zane slept through half the morning, exhaustion having won over astonishment and disbelief. He was roused up from his resting sleep by banging in the living room. He knew right away it was Brin; he'd recognized the light pace of her walking everywhere; even in heels she was a pro at making little noise in walking.

He was started again with a loud bang and he recognized the telltale signs of a mad Brin; it wasn't like her to make that much noise with pounding cupboards.

Zane sleepily sat up in his bed; he stretched and yawned silently. Then, he pinched the binge of his nose and massaged his sore eyes, successfully bringing his body and mind to a state of complete awareness. He grabbed a pair of boxers lying on the floor and put them on before padding barefoot out of his room toward tornado Brin.

A walk in the hallway later, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the kitchen doorway, focusing on Brin's jerky movements. She looked tense and was making no effort in keeping her anger in check, a sign that the enrolment didn't go as planned.

"Morning," he said blinking, still half-asleep. "What's the matter?"

Brin ceased her rummaging and startled when he spoke. It still amazed him that he could sneak up on her. After all those years of her bragging to him not to screw up and not to draw any prying eyes on him, one could say that she would be the careful and alert one of the two. It wasn't the case.

She turned facing him, open-mouthed and ready to explain why she was mad but sealed her lips close and gave him a swift once over. It went without saying that he was surprised when she narrowed her eyes on some point behind his shoulder. "You're not dressed," she stated; and he suddenly was very interested in that reaction of hers.

Was she blushing? No, he chastised himself mentally; Brin didn't do blushes. Then how come she was avoiding looking at him? She'd seen him wearing nothing but boxers countless of times before; why was it now so embarrassing for her to see him like that?

He knew he wasn't that hard on the eyes; they'd been designed that way. He also knew it because he'd often been at the receiving end of many longing stares back in his old school; although he'd never been self-conscious about them before. However, he did care for Brin's ogling –or non-ogling for that matter; she was Brin, after all.

He suddenly felt proud of causing such a reaction from her; mostly because just a few hours ago, she'd told him he didn't look male enough. He decided to hide his contented smile and adopted a blank mask; he fixed his studying gaze on her, answering in a casual shrug: "I'm not naked."

She huffed and shifted her stare to his rapidly. Then, she returned to the cupboards she had been cleaning/filling/banging, keeping her gaze away from his form. Was she remembering the mind-blowing kissing session they had a few days ago when she was under the influence of her heat and he of her spell? He sure as hell thought about that a great deal of his time last night; when sleep wouldn't come to him.

"They don't want us to pass the final exams. They say that the limit date for transfer is expired. We needed to take summer classes to pass exams at the end of July."

He frowned, not happy with this development: "This is a nightmare. I was hoping to sleep-in all summer long."

"Well it won't happen. Believe me when I say I'm not happy with this either."

**To be continued...**


	13. The girl with the crazy brother

**The Whiz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

**AN:** Hi! It's been so long that I feel bad to even post a new chapter. I promise a surprise at the end (ref: Author's note #3)

I'd like to point out that I got the mechanics parts on 'allboutcircuits' forum. .?t=4354

On a complete different note: 1st June 2009 was pulse day. So happy pulse day, folks ;)

**Review of previous chapter: **Zane and Brin arrived at their new home, in Sacramento, CA. Brin decided to take charge of their enrolment in school but was met with resistance with the local headmaster; they'll have to take summer classes to be accepted in the institution. Meanwhile, Zane realized that he is slowly developing non-sibling feelings toward his sister.

Have fun reading!

**Chapter 12: The Girl with the Crazy Brother**

_(Or,it's Monday; we're alright)_

**Sacramento, CA **

**1137 hours, July 23, 2014.**

Even Manticore was more appalling then summer school.

He had known it the second he'd heard the words put together: summer school was a bitch. The obligation to attend every class was a pain in the butt and the lessons were everything but fascinating. Add the fact that he had to mingle with a gang of dumb and dumber and you had the picture of the most boring summer ever created by mankind.

With his luck, the only cute girl in the room was way beyond sick in the head. He'd tried to talk to her on his first day; turning on the charm and smiling boyishly at her. He'd gotten a stressed giggle, a slap to the mouth and the battling of feet against the floor as a response. He'd never caught on what she'd found that was so hilarious. He'd never looked at her again neither.

Brin wasn't in his class, but that wasn't news to him as she was always a grade ahead of him. He got to see her at lunch and after morning classes. She was finding summer school dull as well but contrary to him, Brin always had that kind-hearted approach to social nutcases and rejected sociopaths. She was compassionate –unselective- like that.

On his part, he usually gave the vibe that he didn't care and that was perfectly fine by him; he preferred being all by himself to being harassed by weirdoes. He was antisocial and unsympathetic, so what?

As he stepped foot into the courtyard, lunch bag in hands, he stopped short. Brin was sitting with a Mexican looking guy. He must be at least eighteen and had tattoos covering a good part of his left arm and neck; he looked like he had just gotten out of jail.

As he frowned, Zane slipped on his shades, hoping to head at another table without being seen by Brin; he had the very intention of eating lunch alone. Sadly, his actions didn't go unnoticed by his sister as she caught sight of him and urged him to come over and sit with her new friend. He sighed. Zane was in no mood to be friendly with another of Brin's stray puppies. Anyhow, he strode none too quickly to what had been designed as their –Brin and his- table over the past month.

He put his lunch on the table and took a seat next to his sister, slumping casually on the hard metallic bench. Across them was the Latino guy and Zane ran his gaze over him swiftly, taking in every detail. Brown eyes, dark and messy hair and eyebrows, neatly shaved face, grim set lips and a tight square jaw. He also noticed that the guy was doing the exact same thing he had just done; giving him a once over and studying him.

Zane reported his attention on Brin's hand as she grabbed his wrist, noticing just how much darker her usual light complexion had gotten; it now consisted of a rich honey-like color. Californian sun was doing wonders to both of their skin tones; even though the sky seemed constantly cloudy over their heads, it offered little protection against the blazing sun and its deadly UV rays.

However, as his skin colour darkened, his hair color was doing the exact opposite as blondish highlights appeared here and there. While he didn't really give that much thoughts about the new changes, Brin had voiced up that it was endearing.

Manticore had given them all great looks; so what? Manticore had also taught them how to successfully aim the center of a target with a blindfold on. That didn't mean he had to turn whacko in the head and started shooting blindly at people for the kicks of it. 'No', he thought, 'looks shouldn't count'.

"Gabe, this is Shane, my brother," Brin started.

Zane still was trying to get over the whole name change. Fortunately, he'd picked names ending sensibly the same way their real ones ended. In public places, they had wisely become Kathryn and Shane, bored summer school students. However, in the confines of their home, they still were the same old Brin and Zane.

"Shane, this is Gabriel."

Zane a.k.a. Shane nodded once to –Gabe- Gabriel; an acknowledgement that wouldn't get Brin mad at him for not being polite. He'd learned that nodding dispassionately could be a solution to avoid taking interest in her conversations/friends' conversations without being reprimand by Brin, but somehow, he was sure that she would eventually notice his lack of participation in the conversation.

"Nice to meet you, man," Gabriel said. "Kathryn was just telling me why you both have to be at summer school."

Again, Zane nodded. 'Yeah, moving sucks," he added.

"I guess."

He unwrapped his lunch without saying furthermore and took a bite of his ham sandwich. The little chat as it was before his arrival wasn't flowing anymore and all three of them felt into an uncomfortable silence; or should he say _they_ felt into an uncomfortable silence and _he_ was perfectly fine with it?

He smiled inwardly and gazed at the seagulls near them; the birds were avidly watching them and the rest of the student body eat with the hope to get away with a generous donation or a well merited stolen trophy. Zane eyed a particularly close bird with a distrustful gaze. '_Don't even try to steal my food, buddy_' he thought warningly to it. The seagull, as instinctive –or telepathic- as it was to threatening situations, took this as its cue to go harass some other table.

Zane reported his gaze to Brin as she finally started making small talk: "Gabriel and I have Physics and English together. You wouldn't believe how great a team we make!"

He half-smiled at her. He turned to Gabriel; the guy was staring at his sister with open amusement and something akin to adoration in the eyes. Zane scowled; they really didn't need another version of Anton right now. "So Gabriel," he started, "why are _you_ in summer school?"

"Let's just say that I missed a lot of class this year."

Ah! He had missed a lot of school days; must be because of all the hanging around in a cell somewhere in Chino.

"So you're like a drop-out or something?" Zane continued, trying to push the guy a little so his sister would see who her new friend was for real. Brin shot him a glare for his bluntness, which he ignored.

Gabriel fixed him with a gaze of his own, but Zane couldn't perceive any annoyance or frustration in it. "Nah, my grandmother was sick so I had to stay home a lot."

Ok. So maybe he wasn't all that bad after all. Every man staying home to his sick grandma was bound to be good, right?

In all cases, Zane would keep a close watch on him if he was to start tailing around Brin.

**Sacramento, CA **

**1300 hours, July 23, 2014.**

He figured two hours later that a close watch was way beyond his skills limitation. He just couldn't handle it.

A stone went flying a couple of feet away as Zane's foot kicked it lazily. He was strolling at a leisure pace with his hands in his pockets keeping a safe distance from Brin and her new stalker/admirer/poor choice of a friend; enough distance between them so he wasn't expect to be involved in any uninteresting discussion.

Brin was talking in a typical Brin way; meaning animatedly with lots of hands movements flying in every direction. Gabriel was getting a word out every now and then. Zane had to give the dude some credit; he seemed immune to all of Brin's babbling and wasn't losing his good mood. He seemed to be paying real attention to her words and wasn't just nodding when an answer was request.

Zane rolled his eyes as he tune out their conversation; here was another guy completely besotted by Brin's smiles and charms. He could already see them throwing each other flirting smiles. 'Same old, same old…'

He scowled at himself for his thoughts. Why was that affecting him in any way? It wasn't like the dreams he'd been having recently had anything to do with the sudden ire fuelling his body.

So why was he feeling that way? Why was he –for lack of better word- jealous?

It didn't feel right; it didn't feel right at all.

He was contemplating those very thoughts when he noticed that the couple ahead had left the sidewalk, heading toward a small garage. Despite the old looking building and its poor condition, Zane knew right away that it was still in use; beat-up cars were in the yard and he could hear the loud noise of an air compressor somewhere in the workshop.

"Shane," Zane reported his attention on Brin, "I'm gonna be back in a minute. Gabriel wants to show me around."

He didn't acknowledge or nod at her; Gabriel was already entering inside the office as if he owned the place; and maybe he was. Zane could easily imagine the man repairing motors on week days and stealing others on weekends.

Zane shook his head and sighed in aggravation. He glanced back at the yard and slowly made his way toward the garage door. Inside, a radio was buzzing Mexican music.

The minute he entered the workshop, he felt cold. The sun had been glaring outside and now he was sheltered from it; it took him a few seconds to adjust to the new lighting.

"Hey, man. Hand me a 3/16th, will ya?"

Zane startled a little when a guy appeared from under a car. Like Gabriel, the guy had Mexican skin and facial complexions under the dirty and tainted work clothes. Aside from that, they didn't look alike at all. Where Gabriel looked as if he was coming straight from the bad side of the town, that man's attitude was friendly. Zane looked around a little and finally found the requested tool. He handed it to the guy.

"What's the problem?" He asked, pointing his chin towards the engine.

"You know about mechanics?"

Did he know about mechanics? Back in Manticore, Zane's knowledge of technology was far superior to most of his X5 classmates. Did he know about mechanics? Not only did he know about mechanics but he was excelling at it too.

"You bet," he voiced up with a straight face.

The guy completely rolled out from under the car and stood up before him. He grabbed a rag and tried to remotely clean some dirt from his hands.

"The client purchased a used four hp air compressor in Mexico. The problem is that it blows the motors breaker. The motor is rated at 220 volts and 12.5 amps and it has a 20 amp resetable breaker. Also, it is on a dedicated circuit of 50 amps and doesn't blow the main breaker. That causes an over voltage," he explicated as they both glanced at the engine system.

"What about the centrifugal switch?"

"Qué?"

"Is it clicking or no?" Zane enquired. "If it's not clicking, that might be the cause of your high current."

The guy, still unnamed, stared at him a few seconds, trying to process his words. Then he spoke slowly: "I'll check. And after that, if it's still not working I can isolate the compressor and the motor shafts and see if the compressor turns hard or if the motor runs well with the compressor unhitched."

"And with a little chance, that'll tell you what your problem is."

"Man! You're looking for a part time job? I could use a good hand."

Zane shrugged casually, "I'll think about it."

"The name's Felix by the way."

"Shane."

"Nice to meet you, man."

Zane smiled; the first genuine smile of the day. He liked that guy. "Yeah, same here."

"Cute," Gabriel's voice spoke up. They both turned toward Gabriel and Brin. He noticed that the duet was standing a little bit closer.

Felix chuckled and shook his head. "I'm guessing you've already met my little bro'?"

"Yeah. We've met."

"Gabe, where did you find this guy? He helped figuring out a way of fixing this engine in less than two minutes," Felix said, pointing at Zane who shrugged off the compliment.

The comment seemed to pick Gabriel's interest and he cocked an eyebrow. "Really? That's impressive. Where have you learnt about this?"

"Back home."

Brin folded her arms over her chest and adopted an unreadable expression; Zane knew right away that he was in for a talk later. How he wasn't supposed to stand out from the mass and show his skills, yadda, yadda, yadda…

"Who's the chica?"

"This is Kathryn, Shane's sis."

"Mucho gusto, Kathryn," Felix said with a tilt of his cap and reported his gaze on Zane after the exchanged of polite smiles. "I was serious about the job offer. Think about it."

"I will," Zane looked at Brin again, "You're ready?"

She nodded and faced Gabriel. Zane didn't mean to eavesdropped but caught the 'see you tomorrow' anyway. He felt a slight feeling of relive when they didn't part with a kiss. They beg their goodnights and left in the direction of their apartment.

They were walking their way back to the apartment. Brin was silent; angry and silent. He could also hear her blood boiling in her veins. He just knew she's been like this just by the look she'd given him back in the garage.

"You're angry because I help with the engine?"

"No."

"Is it because I'm been impolite or rude somehow?

She gave him a dark look, clearly annoyed with him: "No."

He was at a loss of reasons why she would act that way. It wasn't like her to be angry for nothing. Usually, she was mad at him because of something he'd said or done. But why she was acting that way right now he didn't know at all.

"Ok, then what's the matter 'coz I really can't figure out what got your panties in a twist."

She stopped in her tracks abruptly and he looked at her with wide-eyes. "Back home," she spat, "You said back home. What the fuck, Zane? You learned mechanics at Manticore. Manticore isn't home! "

"It was a figure of speech…"

"No, it wasn't. You just can't think that Manticore was our home; you just can't!"

He took a step toward her, his own ire was fuelling: "What? Is _here_ home, now?"

Brin looked momentarily shocked as if he had just slapped her: "What?"

"I'm asking, Brin, because they say that home is wherever you feel love and safe.

"Am I nothing to you?"

"Oh, please, don't put words in my mouth. You know damn well what I mean. I'm fucking tired of losing people I consider friends and family. I look at you and I see you doing all these efforts to fit in and I'm wondering if it's even worth giving a shit when we'll be long gone two years from now. I'm not like them, Brin. _We_'re not. We'll never fit in long enough to have normal lives. Deal with it already."

"Shut up," her words were hard, but her voice sounded defeat although he didn't know if it was from his eye-opening revelation of from his off-putting point of view. A short and heavy silence lingered in the air before he had his answer. She waved at the street beside them, and the houses surrounding it, "It's worth it, can't you see it?"

Frankly, he couldn't. He couldn't understand what was so thrilling about freedom, what was so thrilling about life in general. Being free had hurt him more than Manticore ever could. At least the goals and objectives were clear in there. Life outside Manticore was nothing but a mess.

"No, I don't see it. I tried –_try_- but I just can't see it. There's no purpose in this life. Before, everything was crystal clear. Now, everything is a blur. I live looking over my shoulder and wishing that our past won't catch up with us someday."

They were face to face. His bitterness vanished when he noticed that her eyes had filled with tears. "I had no idea you felt that way," she said softly, brokenly. Then her arms were around him, hugging him for dear life. When he automatically embraced her as well, she stood on tiptoes and hid her face in the cradle of his neck. "Live for the small things, Zane. Objectives aren't that important. Small things are the most important."

Then she let him go and he felt surprisingly emotional. "Are we going home, now?"

"Yes, we're going home."

Brin smiled brightly at him, her eyes still brilliant from unshed tears. He watched her walk away from him, her long, dark hair whipping behind her. Then she looked over her shoulder at him, stretching her hand to him. He walked up to her, lacing her smaller fingers with his.

**Sacramento, CA **

**2205 hours, July 23, 2014.**

Brin was asleep in the room when he decided to head outside. The night had fallen a couple of hours earlier and thanks to his blessed eyesight and for a few working streetlamps, he could make out his surroundings almost perfectly.

He showed his sector pass to the cop and he flashed he man a false smile. The cop rolled his eyes at the teen's antics and let him entered the area. Zane pocketed his wallet back and started wandering the streets, looking for a functional phone booth.

Zane saw one lit up on the other side of the street. He made his way over it, hiding his face from a passing hover drone as he reached the beat-up cabin. He turned his back to the flying machine and put on the hood of his hoodie.

He waited a few seconds for the drone to go away then he picked up the phone and dialled a number he'd learn by heart. He was answered by an automatic voice mail.

"Hey, it's Zane. It's Monday; we're alright."

He added as an afterthought: "Take care." Then he hung up. There: that was short n' sweet. Brin would be proud of him for giving a go to her motto. He grinned fondly at the thought of her.

He stared at the phone for some time before taking it off its cradle once again. He dialled another well-known number and waited as it rang four times before someone pick-up.

"Hello?" The voice sounded a little out of breath but he would have recognized it between thousands.

"Hey, mom. How's it going?"

He would try harder. He would learn to live for the small things.

**To be continued...**

**A.N.2:** That was one really hard chapter to write (and I have to confess, I'm been lazy with this story in the past months). I found that it's getting harder and harder now that Brin and Zane are older. Writing about their childhood and their discovery of the world was such an easy thing to do. But now I'm beginning to find it tough even though I have a writing plan.

**A.N.3:** Anyway, here is the surprise I promised for the long wait and I hope you'll like it as much as I liked doing it.

I gave faces to the characters (well, the ones that didn't have any, duh! Also, the actresses from the show impersonating Brin and Tinga aren't the same...)

Erase the spaces in between, change (dot) for actual . and follow the link: h t t p : / / s572(dot)photobucket(dot)com / albums / ss161 / Diivine310/

Take care, guys!


	14. Interlude1:Pretending is not always good

**The Whiz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

**AN:** Okay, so this isn't chapter thirteen but a (brief) interlude in-between twelve and thirteen. Next chapter's coming along nicely but I feel that we're not getting enough of what's going on with Brin. I hope you will like the deep confines of her mind as much as Zane's.

Also, I'm going to use the helpful flashback tactic. It's a first for me but I'll try to make it useful. Ahah!

Happy reading!

**Interlude 1: ****Pretending is not always good for you**

_(Or, __torn __between Mars and Saturn__)_

**Sacramento, California, USA **

**0654 hours, June 25, 2014.**

**Brin's POV**

He was hiding something. She was certain of it.

Their sense of camaraderie had returned as usual -to some extents- but she could feel that something was off with him.

Since their heated discussion a couple of weeks ago, he hadn't act like himself.

Perhaps it was because she now knew how he truly felt about their lives.

Confused. Dejected. Worthless.

She could understand that someone like Zane may find it hard to carry on with life without mapped out objectives to guide him. In that way Zane resembled Zack. God, Zane would plain and simply kill her if only she dared speak those words aloud.

Perhaps it was because his capitulation in their argument had been quite rapid -too rapid.

It was as if he had let it go so she would just shut up about the subject. Alright, she may understand why he would want that. Her overreaction toward his beliefs had been brutal. She just couldn't bear with the fact that he was unhappy outside of their cagey prison.

But the quarrel wasn't the only thing that brought the creepy feeling of uneasiness regarding him.

There was more.

In the past two weeks, she'd heard him leave a few times in the middle of the night. She suspected that he'd been waiting for her to be asleep; he had been checking up on her as she faked slumber.

He had better not start again with the crappy stunts and immature games he liked to pull back in Idaho.

'No,' she chastised her own thoughts. Zane wasn't up to his old schemes. She had to have a little more faith in him. Beside, he wasn't like his old self; taking the life of someone in an uncontrollable frenzy, losing his roots, his friends and Susan had been hard on him.

And again, there was even more…

She'd seen the looks he had been giving her nowadays. He wasn't looking at her like a brother looks at a sister. And what terrified her was that she liked it.

Their near _mishap_ –Ah! What a manila choice of word for incest- was playing over and over in her head, dizzying her to the point of insanity. One may think that she had forgotten all about their avid exchange of burning kisses; she had been way beyond her right state of mind after all and they had somehow came to the silent agreement to not mention the event afterwards.

She remembered every little detail; from the gleam of his eyes to the burning of his fingers against her skin.

God, that day haunted her.

Not only because of Anton's dead plaguing over their heads day after day but also because she had found herself unable to gaze at Zane without non-sisterly thoughts popping in mind since then. It was driving her crazy.

That's mostly why she had invited Gabriel to come over the night before…

**//****Flashback//**

_She had been __staring at the clock on the wall compulsively for the past half hour. _

_Every minute, she had cocked her head to the side to check the timepiece. _

_231__7 hours and Zane still was a__ no show._

_He had been out for a few hours already; six hours and twenty-six minutes to be exact. Not that she had been counting or anything; she just knew._

_He was__ late, really late. He was going to have an earful of her opinion about the matter. _

_2318 hours. _

_She sighed and Gabriel noticed; Dang! He was distracted from the movie they'd been watching -well, more of the movie he'd been watching and the one she'd been trying to pay attention to. _

_He put his elbow over the back of the couch and settled his head in a hand, gazing at her with an assessing look. _

"_Kathryn, I'm sure your brother can take care of himself."_

_She looked at him sheepishly__. "I know, I know. But it's… late," she finished lamely with a moue._

_He pouted, mimicking her, with laughter in the eyes. _

_She studied him for a swift second; he was of __a__verage height, well-built but not overly so –more lean than bulk. His tattooed arms were nothing but sexy and she wondered just where the dark ink lines heading under his clothes ended. She reported her gaze to his tanned face; little freckles, almost invisible even through her empowered eyesight, were dispersed over his cheekbones. (How cute!) His jaw was firm and strong, his lips straight but full, his nasal bone was slightly crooked –must be from a broken nose. His eyes were of a warm chocolate brown with little strokes of gold._

_His eyes were… captivating. They looked right back at her as if they could read her very soul. _

_Brin__ held her hand to the side of his face and gently stroked his smooth jaw._

_He leaned in, his face drawing closer. Reaching up, he gently tucked several stray __locks behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her face. He gently traced her cheekbones, her jaw and her lower lip with a light brush of his calloused thumb._

_Lips parting on a soft pant, she kissed the tip of his digit gently._

"_Kathryn," he suddenly breathed, grasping her face lightly in both hands._

_She closed her eyes in frustration, fortunately, his were already closed and he __didn't notice her sudden mood change. "Call me something else, please."_

_Gabriel looked at her with a corner smile, his eyes clearly stating that he found her request odd. _

"_Then, how __about… guapa?" He breathed, the one word sounding hoarse in his throat. _

_She cuddled her wrinkled nose with his, keeping track of their ongoing discussion as she leaned in, giving more access to his traveling fingers. "What does it mean?"_

"_Gorgeous,"__ he whispered. Then he bent down his head to hers, starting a slow __kissing path over her lips with gentle, rhythmic pressure that had her murmuring quietly in anticipation for the next caress. "Mmmm… berry flavor lip-gloss. I like that."_

_The tip of his tongue traced __her pouting lower lip and she shook her head. He chuckled at her childish antics. __"Querida?" He tried again._

"_Mmmmm…__" Brin tried to make it sound like she was thinking, but in reality, it was more of a moan at the end. "No."_

"_You drive a hard deal, woman." __He huffed, amused, and she caught her breath when she felt the air touch the sensible skin of her throat. He noticed and put his lips upon her skin where traitorous goose bumps had appeared. She couldn't help herself, she needed more contact. _

_She griped Gabe's shoulders and slowly straddled him. He immedia__tely settled his hands on her lower back; steadying her to him so she wouldn't waver in her new position._

"_What about… m__i ángel?__"_

_Brin arched her head slightly backward to give him __more access to her collarbone. Her hands held his head to her and his tongue dared out, tasting her skin._

"_Mmmm…Oh…I like that."_

_Again, he laughed quietly. "You like what I'm doing or the pet name?"_

_H__e trailed his thumbs lightly along her cheekbones; she groaned quietly and leaning in for more._

"_U__mghh... Both?"_

_Alright; so the man __was skilled with his lips and hands to the point of making her lose her train of thoughts. That was a first… Scratch that; a second. She signed internally; damn Zane. Damn heat._

"_I like it too. M__i ángel…__"_

_His voice was a purr. And his hands; oh, his hands! They were those of an artist and she was mud beneath feisty fingers, waiting for his touch to come alive._

_He laid an open-mouthed kiss to the side of her neck, grabbing her untidy long raven hair into a messy bun. He continued his ministrations, sucking gently on her skin,__ bringing the blood forward; she would have a hickey the following day. Funny, she didn't care. She only encouraged him more by tilting her head, granting him unhindered access to the area __between ear and shoulder. She__ slid her nails over his muscular shoulders. He nuzzled her neck some more._

"_What does it means?" His voice pulled her out of dizzy-land._

_She furrowed her brows, trying to understand his question__. "What does what means?" she asked her voice lazy and teasing._

"_Your__ tattoo."_

_Her hands broke free from __his neck and moved to cover her own, spilling her hair over the black lines in the process._

_O God. What to answer? It was the first time __that she had been careless enough to let her guard down about her barcode. She could not exactly go around telling a boy she had just met that it wasn't a simple tattoo but her superhuman DNA coding all warped in a nicely imprinted barcode._

_She decided to go with mischievousness. "It's a secret."_

_He grinned lazily over her ear and she sucked in air as his words create wonderful sensations in her. __"It's sexy. Just like you."_

_Their tongues met again and battled some more._

_She __moved from Gabriel's mouth to his neck__, __biting and sucking at the flesh as she went.__She could feel the slight rasp of his stubble on her tongue as she moved back over the underside of his jaw and licked her way down to the hollow of his throat. She could feel him pulse beneath her lips._

_Brin__ gently sucked at his Adam's apple; __it bobbed slightly under her attention. That was all the diversion she needed so he would drop the subject of her 'tattoo'. She gave a quick look at the clock once again._

_2327 hours._

_Zane__ was _so _getting an earful from her. His ear-drums would take days to recover, she vowed herself._

_Just as she was thinking__ about how she would make Zane pay for hiding something from her, Gabriel shifted their positions. She found herself cushioned between the sofa and some of his weight. Umghh? How did _that_ happen so fast?_

_Brin__ broke off of the hot lip-lock to gaze up at Gabe so she could see his eyes gazing right back at her with something in them. _

_No, it couldn't be. _

_Suddenly she knew exactly what he was about to say__ when his lips part._

"_I like you" he whispered, a catch of emotion in his voice._

_Ugh__-oh; not good. She stayed silent in deer-caught-in-headlights pose._

"_I don't know what it is about you that make me loose it. But I feel like drawn to you."_

_It took her brain two and a half second to get back in gear; s__he smiled sweetly at him. Not knowing what to say, she brought his head down to her and kissed him with renewed fervor; she may not know what to say, but she did know that she liked this guy too – well, mostly making out with him. _

_He was fun, not hard on the eyes, clever and caring. He was a good choice for a pretend boyfriend. And maybe, after a time she would consider him a real boyfriend. _

_It was the __sounds of footsteps on the staircase that finally broke their languid discovery of each other. They kept their foreheads resting together as their heartrates slowed back down to normal. She noted that his eyes were closed, his lashes dark against his bronzed cheeks, his panted breaths warm against her face._

"_I like you too," she finally conceded; and she was mildly surprised when she realized that she hadn't lie._

_Gabriel__ was watching her contently._

_They were back in their seats when Zane entered the apartment. _

_2343 hours._

_Zan__e stopped in his tracks, gawking at them under wary eyes, clearly not expecting this waiting party. She grinned smugly, making a show of wiping her mouth with her thumb when Gabriel wasn't looking. 'Just to infuriate him', she thought because Zane was so easy to taunt._

_It took her brother about a quarter of second to kick out of his staring. He dropped his backpack in a thud then took off his jacket._

"_It's late,__" she said accusingly. _

_He shrugged: __"I know, and yet, you still haven't kicked your friend's butt out of here."_

_She jumped off the couch and was in his face in an instant. Ok, alright; so he knew how to push her buttons too. __"Present your excuses to my guess."_

_He stared defiantly at her, his jaw clenched and his piercing grey eyes narrowing dangerously. She held her ground, not one to be afraid of him even through she knew better than anyone just how her brother was not someone to be enemy with. Her eyes __took interest a second too long in a twitching muscle in his angry jaw. _

_He smirked. _

_Then, purposely, __leisurely, challengingly, he let his gaze wander over her face and body; taking in her swollen lips, rosy cheeks, the hickey forming just bellow her right ear, her disheveled clothes. It took all of her willpower to not cross her arms over her chest. _

_She couldn't help it; her blood boiled in her veins and her heart-rate picked up. What a self-righteous arrogant bastard!_

_When their gaze locked again, she knew that he had somehow catch on her stratagem. He knew that__ she'd been trying to get caught making out with Gabriel on purpose. _

_Gabriel. She suddenly remembered his presence. He was silent, still sitting, a dozen of feet from their staring match. Hopefully, he hadn't witnessed Zane's pervert act; that would do wonder to their siblings covert._

_Again, Zane grinned, following her train of thoughts, and she wanted to slap his sorry butt to Mars._

"_Forgive me, Gabriel. I didn't mean to offend you."_

_Correction: make that to Saturn. _

**//****End of flashback//**

She wondered forlornly when their relation had change from opened and carefree to tensed and angry all the time. She missed seeing casual, relaxed Zane. She missed his boyish grins and devilish plans. It was as if he had change from being her brother to a complete stranger overnight.

Again, she had Manticore to blame for that sad change. Heat –that awful, dreadful, experience- had ruined everything between them. Their strong and unbreakable connection had crumbled in a matter of seconds after a séance of groping and the snapping sound of a neck.

Just like that, they were reminded how Manticore still had control on their lives.

Sighing inwardly, she opened her eyelids.

From her sitting position on a chair, she was studying Zane's sleeping form. He was sprawled on his stomach, the sheets down to his waist and his back bare to her eyes.

Again, she was faced with how much of a man he was turning out to be.

It went without saying that some of Manticore's creations had a tendency to develop more rapidly than normal people. At age fourteen, Zane looked like he was sixteen, maybe seventeen. However, she knew deep down that he was older than he looked like. They all were; never experiencing childhood would do that to one.

She let her gaze run over her brother. He looked calm, unguarded and peaceful, even. He looked so innocent when he slept, not his usual new jerky self.

Smiling softly she watched him as he slept, her thoughtful eyes on him. She took in every one of his facial traits; his tousled hair that felt upon closed eyelids, his straight nose, his high cheekbones and slightly hollowed cheeks, his manly lips and boyish charm…

One could easily call him handsome; Manticore had done a good job on him.

She was about to give him a nudge with her barefoot so he would wake up when he spoke.

"Like what you see?"

She startled.

He had mumbled the words with his voice lacking the usual thickness of sleep; he'd been awake for a while.

Zane opened his eyes, squinting against the dawn light coming in through the windows, and then he gave her a cocky grin. She was sick of that smile; she needed to wipe it off.

"Where were you last night and the nights before?"

Suddenly, his eyes were wary, his shoulders tensed and hunched; a complete reverse of his calm composure from minutes ago.

Zane looked dismayed, "That's none of your business."

It made her heart hammer with sorrow and she frowned at the unexpected realization of how much power he had over her. "Why are you trying to pick a fight?"

"I'm not trying to pick a fight." He was standing up, grabbing his jeans on the floor to put them on.

Before she could help it she continued. "Are you seeing someone?" God; she really had to learn to put her foot in her mouth before speaking. Now, he would think that she was jealous of whatever/whoever he was hiding/doing.

His movements stilled and he barked a laugh; a sound between amusement and annoyance. "That's rich coming from you!" He stared distastefully at the hickey marring her neck. "Go take a shower; you still reek of him."

She pushed him angrily into the bed, he feel in a sitting position, bouncing over the mattress. Then after a few seconds he spoke again. "I'm seeing no one."

Their gazes met and she couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or not, couldn't read the answer either way, and it bugged her. She had always been able to read him easily in the past.

Her doubtfulness seemed apparent as he narrowed his eyes, gearing up for a new fight.

She saw the sparkle start in his eyes and his entire body loosened, the eternal cocky smirk tugging at his mouth as he opened it for a typical clever remark, but she beat him to the punch.

She changed tactics.

"Tell me. Please."

He wouldn't resist her pleading; he threw her a dark look.

"No."

The unease in Brin's stomach flared up a couple of notches; her entire body tightened. Couldn't he see that she wasn't asking just out of curiousness; she was so worried by now that she was almost sick to the stomach.

He wasn't acting like himself and it frightened her. In their ever-changing lives, he had always been her one constant pillar.

It took all of her strength to retain the tears threatening to fall. She looked away so he wouldn't notice. "I want to know what's on your mind. You're being distant since we've moved here."

He fell silent, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Then he let out a groan and lay back down onto his bed, an arm over his face.

"I'm having the shakes."

"What?" Of all the things in the world, she never would have suspected that he was having seizures. "Why haven't you told me right away?"

"And show how weak I've become?"

"God, Zane. You're not weak; you're ill."

She lay down next to him. On an impulse, an instinctive need to comfort him, she lightly kissed his temple. "How bad are they?" she whispered.

He shook his shoulder. "Not too bad. Zack is sending me pills called Tryptophan. He said to drink lots of milk until I receive the goods."

"Milk?"

"Don't ask me."

They stayed in silence for a long time.

**To be continued...**

_________________________________________________________

**AN2:** Mari83 mentioned that the photobucket link in last chapter wasn't working so I put it on my profile for a more direct access.

I hope you liked being in Brin's head for a change.

Take care !!


	15. Goosebumps

**The Whiz-Kid**

See prologue for disclaimer, rating, summary, etc.

**AN:** Hello, it's been ages since I feel like writing and as soon as my mojo came back, I took the time to write another chapter. I am terribly sorry for the long wait and I hope I did not lose too many of us because of it. This chapter begins a few months after last chapter's revelations and it is back to Zane's POV.

**Review of previous chapter: **Brin decided to confront Zane about his sudden reactions and whereabouts. She cracked his shield and discovered his problem with seizures.

Have fun reading!

**Chapter 13: ** **Goosebumps**

_(Or, yeah I'm making your hair sit up)_

**Sacramento, CA **

**0710 hours, September 22, 2014.**

He woke up from his sleep; he was vaguely aware of a shattering noise, which some part of him realized were his own teeth clinking together. Zane knew the symptoms. This was bad. Blindly, he reached an unsteady hand towards another brand new bottle of miracle pills Zack had sent by mail a couple of weeks ago; Triptophan. He struggled to open the lid; the fucking childproof cap kept getting in the way and made him feel exactly like a puzzled three years old toddler.

With concentration, he finally opened the damn thing with too much strength, the white capsules of vitamin scattering everywhere on the linoleum floor. He gasped as the tremors increased with renewed force.

He stumbled out of the bed, on his hands and knees, grabbing a few pills and gulping them in one shallow. Then he waited, panting and tired as hell.

He cursed mentally again. These episodes were getting worst. He used to be a morning person. And from a morning and generally bright and breezy person, he'd fell a couple steps backward to being an awful and borderline ill-tempered non-morning person.

After a couple of minutes, he decided to knock back down a few more pills.

When he shakily stood up, Zane brushed the back of his hand on his sweaty forehead. He grabbed a pair of jeans and padded his way out in his room. The hallway was dim-lit and he thanked mutely some god up there for the existence of clouds and smog. Sun was not something he wanted to deal with right now. The brightness was too much.

Zane staggered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to cast away the constant dizziness. He continued his journey in the room, zeroing his sight on the fridge. Milk – he needed milk. Tons and tons of it. He knew Brin would have managed to get some now that she knew about his state. He opened the refrigerator's door and took the white beverage. Not bothering with a glass, he sculled about half the bottle in one go.

It helped, kind of.

He leant back against the counter and rolled the bottle across his forehead. It was so hot in here. And his head was pounding madly.

"You ok, man?"

"Shit!" Zane startled and spun around, his hands gripping the edge of the counter to keep himself up. The bottle slipped out of his hand.

Gabriel was there, eyes wide and palms up.

"Fuck! Don't pull that shit on me!"

A human nobody had managed to sneak up on him and scared him out of his skin. That's how bad the situation had gotten. Now he was feeling less than nothing. Not only was he a deficient being, he also was a pitiful excuse of a genetically empowered soldier. What was Gabriel doing here anyway?

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Zane threw a glare his way before remembering the liquid at his feet. His gaze felt to the linoleum. "S'ok."

He gripped a rag and bent to tidy the mess, all the while eying warily Gabriel's whereabouts from the corner of his eye; he wasn't about to get caught a second time. Brin's boyfriend grabbed a chair and sat at the table keeping somewhat quiet, certainly sensing Zane's annoyance toward him. At least Zane could be grateful for the lack of noise. That did wonders to his brain.

Then the stillness of the room was killed by Brin's clicking dead-trap devices more commonly called high heels.

She stopped at the kitchen entrance assessing the situation. He could feel her eyes blazing into his skin. He could just imagine what a pathetic picture he made; shoulders slouched, spine straight as an iron fence, trying to breathe as casually as possible in front of her boy toy. After some time, she quickly sauntered her way to his scrubbing form, crouching besides him. She took the rag away from him and finished the job.

"Have you taken your meds?" She demanded lowly for his purpose only.

He nodded curtly and they stood back up again. When standing, Zane shifted on his feet awkwardly sensing too many eyes on him.

"Do you want to go to school? I can call in sick for you."

He shook his head. "Nah. I'll go. I'll catch my death if I stay trapped in here another day."

Brin careful nodded her agreement, doubt clouding the dark pools of her eyes. However, she knew that he didn't want her hovering over him like a mother hen. He was his own man. She knew better to press him in these times.

"Go ahead, I'll see you later"

"Ok. See you later." She put the rag in the sink and motioned for Gabriel to follow her outside.

"He's sick?" He heard Gabriel ask before the front door closed behind them.

He turned to the sink, cursing and turned on the tap to rinse the rag.

/

**Sacramento, CA **

**1538 hours, September 22, 2014.**

Zane had learned quite a few things in the years following his escape from Manticore.

The more outstanding and important one of them was that even outside; there were rules. Some rules he tried to avoid, some rules he willingly disregard and other rules he had no choice but to follow. Alas, going to Sacramento High School was situated in that last group.

In a high school as wrecked and crappy as the one he was attending, there were a few underground rules as well –some even called them laws- that every student had to follow to keep alive. Rules such as "do not eat the brown gooey served at the cafeteria on Thursdays", "do not rattle off", or again "do not stare".

The most important unwritten rule of survival was to find your type of crowd and stick with it; which mostly meant that the table one sat at in lunch time determined whom that person was. Zane wasn't one to pick a crowd; his own crowd was sprawled all over the country in hidden locations.

He was a lone wolf.

Within the first month of school at SHS, he had achieved many things.

He succeeded at keeping away undesired company, meaning every soul in the place including his sister and her attached-by-the-hip boy toy.

Then, he had, somehow, successfully kept hidden the seizures dealio from prying eyes; and really, the vitamins Zack sent him were to thank for such an accomplishment. However, concealing this weakness meant that, every once in a while, he had to ditch his last class and head, with shaky legs and uneven pace, in a dark corner of the back of the school establishment. Then, he would dig into his bottle of Tryptophan unafraid of curious stares – an action not unlike to the ones of a junky missing his addiction. And that kind of hurt his pride. At least, hiding meant that no one ever wonder about his sudden paleness, sweaty palms and grinding of the jaws.

His last accomplishment was by far the one he was the less pleased about.

He had managed to build an unhealthy interest in a girl sitting by herself at the graffiti covered picnic table. The one girl he'd been staring at each time he had to sit against the brick wall of the backyard, trying to gather enough strength to stand back up on his jerking leg muscles. He'd been watching her from afar. She was petite and dressed in a patch-work of unmatched colors, which had first attired his curiosity. She was always absorbed in writing in a small book, a diary, perhaps. He would examine her attentively; her hand would be scribbling on the blank paper and her dyed pale pink hair would be falling in disarray locks over her face. She had the habit of putting her pen in-between her lips when pondering some thoughts.

The idea of approaching her near enough to examine her features from a closer look had crossed his mind quite a few times but still, he kept at a distance. He didn't want her to think of him as a shaking junky stalker.

So he kept studying her from a distance until he grew back enough control over his limbs, then he would just gaze at her one last time, and stride away briskly.

One day, he decided, he would speak to her. But not today; he was expected at his after school job.

/

**Sacramento, CA **

**1634**** hours, September 22, 2014.**

When he entered the garage, he discarded his schoolbag near the wall, making enough noise in the process to warn Felix of his presence. He'd previously found out that Felix was one to startle easily, and being shocked out of one's skin didn't add well with a head under the hood.

"Hey, Felix."

Felix's head popped out of under the hood, his white teeth smile contrasting with the dark smudge of motor oil on his cheek. "Hey, kiddo. How was school today?"

Zane shrugged indifferently: "The usual. What do we have here?" he said, eying the piece of fine car his friend was working on; a 1970ish vivid orange Camaro Chevy, he deducted. It was a rare thing to see that kind of muscle car in such a fine condition; few people could afford that kind of vintage car –or more like few people could afford a car- with the price of gas and cost of maintenance nowadays… "She is a beauty."

Felix eyes sparkled, and he excitedly used a sleeve of his overalls to clean a spot on the sparkling metal, "I know, right?"

"You need a hand?"

"Why not? We're just doing a check-up." Felix threw a screwdriver in his direction and pointed at the Camaro. "C'mon. Let's see what this beauty has under the skirt."

They both chuckled and went to start on work.

He felt in steps with his Felix and they both bent their heads under the hood. After changing the air filter, oil and checking the steering wheel fluid, they decided that all seemed to work fine with the car. They were working quickly and efficiently, the radio playing as a background sound and he could help and wonder about the girl at the picnic table. Zane stopped to work, cleaning his hands and he stood there, studying a still working Felix, trying to decide if he should ask him advice.

"You're thinking so hard I'm afraid I'll get grey matter on my shoes. Spill what's on your mind already."

Zane shuffled awkwardly on his feet, hiding a quick smile at his friend observation skills. He couched slightly, somewhat embarrassed about what he was about to voice out loud. "Hum… There's a girl at school…"

"What's her name?"

"I - Well, I don't know."

Felix shook his head, unimpressed with him. "Well ask her. Less qq more pew pew."

"She'll think I'm a creep."

"No. She'll think you're interest in her. That's not being a creep, Shane. You know, for someone so bright, you're seriously lacking in the people skills department."

"That's the misfortune of genius people. For my defense, I have to say that the social gene does not run in the family" A flash of Zack went through his thoughts; yeah definitely not in the family.

"You're sister is a social person."

"She's too social for her own good; it gets in the way of her intellect."

"Wait 'til I tell her you called her stupid."

"You wouldn't."

They grinned at each other, finishing cleaning up their greasy hands. At some point, Felix threw his rag Zane's way, hitting him in the face. "Aw, man! That's gross!"

Felix laughed. "You're such a cute little girl! I need to hit the WC."

Zane frowned after him, stood up and went to the mirror, looking if he had dirt in the face. He sighed as he saw a black oily mark on his left cheek. He started scrubbing at it and was distracted by the radio program changing brusquely from its usual Mexican music to the news report. He paid attention to it when the words military authorities echoed in the garage.

"…_young boy of fourteen years old was captured by military authorities today in the baseball field of Wolf Point, Montana. The boy had displayed minutes before impressing strength and skills while throwing a ball_. _A helicopter arrived soon afterwards taking the child away not without using a display of force and violence. A resident of Wolf Point mentioned to our channel that the crowd was asked to keep things silent by local military public affairs officer regarding the situation. Nearer from us in Santa Monica, Senator Bailey was elected with a majority…_ "

An apprehensive feeling made its way up his spine. He needed to contact Zack. He had a feeling this head news story was bad news for one of his brothers. No, he did not only have a feeling about it not being good, he _knew_ it.

He stomped over the employees' phone attached to the wall and punched in the memorized digits; Zack's emergency line.

The line was occupied.

Zane hanged up the receiver with a loud bang. He sighed and shook his head, grabbing his hair tightly, staring at the wobbling twisted cord of the apparel. After another thirty seconds, he shook out of his funk and strode towards the phone again. He tried calling Zack's set-up line a second time.

That time his brother picked-up the line after a second.

"What's happening?"

"I don't have time for chit-chat, Zane. We've got a situation here."

"We? Who are you with?"

"I'm meeting up with Vada. Lydecker's on her tail. Kavi blew their cover right in front of a Manticore official. They got him."

"Shit. Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes. Hang up; you're jamming my line. I'll get in touch with you later."

And the line went dead.

Zane was left with a sentiment of dread.

**To be continued...**


End file.
